Star Trek: Warlord, The War That Rages
by Morphere
Summary: This is the fifth story in a series based on the Dreadnaught mark II series of starship. This story is now complete yes, with a cliffhanger. Stay tuned for Star Trek: Warlord, The Straw. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

The double doors to from the turbolift to the bridge slid open with a quiet hiss. Commander Kirk stepped out and examined the crew. Lieutenant Tony Moreau sat in the systems overview station just next to the turbolift. Lieutenant Elaine Davies sat in the communications station just past Tony's. Stephen was glad to hear the latest report from Tony; he and Elaine had patched things up and were friends again. There was an empty station just past Elaine, then... a more curious sight. Ensign P'rr's, a catian female, was working on the station just past the empty one. The captain's seat, as has been for the past two weeks, was occupied by Captain Andrei Bolerov. The two seats on either side of the captain were empty. Seated at the twin console in front of the captain's chair was Ensign Tyler Bristol at the helm and Ensign Boors, a Xindi, at tactical. Stephen's presence signaled the beginning of the second shift. He would be relieving Captain Bolerov after his normal, boring update.

As Kirk walked past his old friend Tony Moreau, he patted him on the back. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant," he offered with a knowing smile.

"How's it going, Commander?" Tony replied with a wink. The formalities were being enforced by the captain, who thought there was too much fraternizing on duty. There was a new standing policies of 'keep off-duty talk off-duty' and 'on-duty we have titles, off-duty we have names' in place. By golly, the rest of Starfleet may be getting scientific and exploratory, but not this ship, Kirk thought to himself. Silently, he waved to Elaine, who smiled and waved back.

Kirk stepped down into the lowered portion of the bridge that held the command, weapons, and flight control systems. The bridge was unusually small for a ship that was as large as the USS Warlord, but that was for a reason. The bridge was protected by several layers of reinforced armored plates. She was built to prevent being compromised in any way. The metallic gray, brown, and green color scheme of the room was the ship designers' best attempts to add variety to an obviously military set up. Stephen walked up to the captain and snapped to attention. "Captain, I'm here to relieve you for second shift."

The captain nodded. It had been sixteen weeks since he had taken command of the ship after her previous captain, Lydia Velasquez, was forced to retire due to a viral infection. Things had started smoothly, but for the past few months, he had become tired. He was short tempered, though he tried to hide it. He had been losing weight, as his thinned face demonstrated, and his hair had gone completely gray from the peppered look it had when he first arrived. He motioned to the seat off his right side. With a mild russian-accented voice, he said, "Excellent, Commander. Please have a seat." Kirk obediently sat next to his captain. The captain took a deep breath, then reached for the PADD in the seat to his left. "Here is your status report for the shift, Commander," he said flatly.

Kirk took the PADD and looked at it. There were only three entries; a medical entry for Ensign Matthews, who fell from a crew ladder in engineering and twisted her ankle, a misalignment in the secondary sensor system that Lieutenant Kelly was looking into, and the reconfiguring of bridge conosole for sensor analysis. Persumably, that was what P'rr's was working on. "Thank you, Sir." He motioned to P'rr's with his thumb. "Does that mean we're getting a science officer?"

Bolerov nodded. "Starfleet finally listened to me. Our tactical officer won't have to worry about pulling double duty in tight situations any more." He added a tired, but triumpant smile.

"Sounds good, Sir," Kirk concluded. He recalled their previous combat situations. Either T'Nia, Tyler, or Elaine were stuck with double duty during the fight. It wasn't good. It slowed their reaction time. "Who is it?"

"What?" Bolerov took the PADD from Kirk's hand and stared at it momentarily. He shook his head. "Oh, hell. I forgot to list it in the status report. Commander Kenyon Richards is being transferred when we arrive at Earth. He'll be our new second officer. He's also our new science officer. My apologies for neglecting that, Commander." He pulled a small, metallic rod from the side of the PADD and began writing on the screen.

"No problem, Sir." Kirk nodded. Actually, it was starting to be a problem. Captain Bolerov had been acting a bit more erratic in the past few months. Actually, it started with the zone-out the captain had during the fight with the three hijacked romulan warbirds three weeks ago.

Bolerov finished writing and tapped the screen hard with the stylus before reinserting it. "There." He handed the PADD back to Kirk. "Now, if you'll excuse me... I have a long overdue date with a pillow." He stood to leave. "I stand relieved." 

Kirk stood as well. "I relieve you, Sir." Bolerov gestured to the captain's chair.

As Stephen sat down, Lieutenant Davies interrupted. "Captain, I have a message coming in from Starfleet Command. It's Admiral Leonard." 


	2. Chapter 2

Bolerov gave a quick defeated look to Davies, then motioned with this thumb for Stephen to get up. Quickly, Kirk hopped to his first officer's seat. Bolerov sat back down. "No rest for the wicked, I suppose," he muttered aloud. In a louder voice, he ordered, "Put it on screen, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Sir," she replied obediently. The rounded, gray face of Admiral Angus Leonard filled the forward viewscreen. Despite his advanced years for a human, he always managed a sparkle in his eye. Both his hair and beard were cut short.

"Good afternoon, Admiral," Bolerov said with a weak smile.

"Greetings, Captain Bolerov," Leonard said with a smile. "I'm glad I caught you. I have some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first?"

Bolerov wasn't in much of a mood for games. He shrugged. "It really doesn't matter to me, Admiral."

His balloon slightly burst, Leonard nodded. "Well, the bad news is; we're going to have to cut your leave time short. I know your crew was promised five days off when you picked up the rest of your crew at Spacedock, and for that, I'm sorry. We'll make it up to you. The good news is; you have a new mission. You're picking up your first passengers. We'll get your whole crew two weeks off when you're done."

It was as if the entire room had become deflated. They had spent seven weeks inbound, outbound, or orbiting Romulus. They were anxious to be home. Bolerov nodded slowly. "Understood, Admiral. Who are these passengers?"

The admiral's face lit up again. "I think you won't mind the delay when I tell you the mission. You're picking up Admiral Picard and a peace delegation and heading to Cardassia Prime. The civilian government has reclaimed authority of the Cardassian Union and they wish to join the Federation."

Now it was as if air had suddenly been pumped back in. Everyone looked at each other with excitement. The idea of a formal end of hostilities with the cardassians had been hoped for with the end of the Dominion War, and hadn't even been thought of before that. Memories lingered to the Cardassian Wars almost twenty years ago. This was what the Federation had hoped would happen. The fractured remnants of the Alpha and Beta quadrants realizing the need to be a united front. First, there was the talk of peace with the romulans. Now... the cardassians wanted to join the Federation. People suddenly became giddy.

Bolerov was curious. "Why isn't the Enterprise going? It IS the flagship, after all."

"You're right," Admiral Leonard agreed. "Unfortunately, the damage done to the Enterprise during the Bassen Rift incident was more severe than we thought. Part of the saucer frame is bent and the neck suffered a number of fractures. It's a wonder the entire saucer section didn't come off. She'll be stuck at McKinnley for another two months. Warlord was our obvious next choice."

"Obviously." Bolerov held back being happy about this situation. He hadn't seen Jean Luc in over twenty years. He remembered serving with Jean Luc as a young lieutenant aboard the USS Stargazer as the second shift weapons officer. "How many guests are we expecting?"

"There will be five, Captain... including the Admiral."

"We'll have the good bedsheets out, Admiral." Bolerov quipped.

"Excellent. Starfleet out." The screen switched to blue, with the Starfleet logo in the center.

Bolerov stood to leave again. He examined his crew, who were all smiles. "Well, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, clapping his hands, "I guess we're about to help make history again."

Even Stephen, who had always been reluctant to be at the forefront of the news, couldn't help but cheer with the rest of the bridge crew. 


	3. Chapter 3

By the time the USS Warlord had entered the Sol system, the location of Earth, everyone who had families on Earth had been able to contact them to give them the bad/good news. It was a bittersweet vision as the giant blue, green, and white planet filled the front viewscreen. The dockmaster of the Spacedock had already given them clearance to land in Bay three, pylon six. As the large profile of the Warlord swung around the station, a giant set of double doors marked with a large, black number '3' opened. As before, the dockmaster assumed control of the Warlord at is tilted to one side in order to get through the doors. It came to a gentle rest on the right side of the bay. Three walkways extended from the inner wall of the bay to connect with the starboard side docking ports of the Warlord. They connected with a barely discernable thud.

The captain, standing from his seat, clapped his hands. His mood had improved considerably the past few days and there seemed to be a renewed hop in his step. "Put me through shipwide speakers, Lieutenant Davies."

She nodded and quickly pressed a few buttons. Somehow, the thought of not seeing her friends didn't disappoint her as much as she thought it would. Her renewed friendship with Tony had taken precedent in her life. Unlike her 'groundling' friends, who were only interested in partying, Tony actually wanted to get to know her. The only thing she was truly sorry to miss was personally congratulating her sister's graduation from Yale. By pushing herself, dangerously far in Elaine's opinion, Audrey had graduated an entire semester early. Although she still wasn't quite sure what Audrey would do with a degree in European History, Elaine was confident she'd figure something out. Her graduation present would have to wait. "You're on, Captain," she said cheerfully.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "let's not keep our new crewmembers waiting. There are over one hundred and twenty people out there waiting to come aboard. Let's go greet them. Don't crowd the halls, but make them feel welcome. That is all." Elaine cut the communication.

Andrei turned his attention to his bridge crew. "Okay..." He pointed to Stephen. "Commander, you're with me. The Marine contingent will be boarding starboard-side aft. Everyone else, you're free to go wherever you want. We're off-duty for the next two hours. Our peace delegation arrives in transporter room one at fourteen hundred hours. Commander Richards will be with them. Commander Kirk and Lieutenant Commander T'Nia, I'll need you in there with me to shake hands. Dismissed, everyone." With light hearts and smiles, the bridge crew boarded the left side turbolift and emptied the bridge.

Kirk and Bolerov exited using the right side turbolift. The doors slid closed behind them. "Deck fourteen, section twenty-one." Bolerov spoke at the ceiling. With a slight jolt, the turbolift began moving down, then left, then down, then back. "I'm going to have maintenance check into that jerking motion," Bolerov remarked.

Kirk nodded. His head was still trying to make sense of the adventure he had been through with his romulan... friend... acquaintence... girlfriend... spy... well, that was one other thing he was trying to figure out. If forced, he had to admit he hadn't been himself for the past two weeks. Because of the strange shift rotations lately, he hadn't been able to see his friends at all. That only added to his distant attitude. The result was an awkward silence.

Bolerov rocked back and forth on his heels uneasily. He didn't care for this silence, either. He thought he and Stephen had cleared things up. A renewed tension between him and his first officer was the last thing he needed. He was already having trouble sleeping at night. In fact, the past two nights were the first nights he was able to sleep with out neural inhibitors for over three weeks. "Those damn dreams," he thought. He was OVER it, he kept insisting. It took six months of counselling, but he was OVER it. Why were these images coming back? Deciding he didn't want to continue thinking along this line, he tried small talk. "So, Commander, you've been fairly quiet lately. You were in the Marines, were you not?"

"Yessir," he replied absently. His mind drifted back to his Marine-issue covert suit; the black one with the armored vest he used to infiltrate the romulan warbird with T'osa, the Tal'Shiar agent, three weeks ago.

"Do you know anything about this Lieutenant Colonel 'Slam' Prichard who is commanding this group?" Bolerov was genuinely interested in knowing what was about to step onto his ship. Andrei had graduated from Starfleet Academy almost forty years ago. His specialty was tactics and weapon systems, similiar to the young commander. Although he had been through basic military training, and preferred its regimented lifestyle, he knew very little about the 'true' military branch of Starfleet, the Marines.

Kirk shook his head, somewhat surprised that Bolerov was curious. "Never heard of him. I do know one of the Captains, though... Trace Connor. We went through officer's training together."

"I see," Bolerov nodded, scratching his chin. "So, tell me... what are we in for?"

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Well..." Andrei stumbled, "I'm not that familiar with how the Marines are organized. Exactly what's coming aboard?"

It took Stephen a few moments to recall the roster. "Um..." he started, staring at the floor. He squinted, trying to remember. "It sounds like we're getting a full company... forty-some."

"Forty-five, if I recall." Bolerov added.

"Yeah," Kirk nodded, "it's a little different makeup than I'm used to, though. It seemed kinda top-heavy."

"I think that's on purpose. They're supposed to be able to function without asking for orders all the time."

"That would make sense. Well, anyway... if I remember, we've got ten teams divided between four units. There are two flight teams; Trace commands them. There are two field platoons. They each have three teams. There are two lieutenants in charge of them, but I don't remember their names. Then, there are two infiltration teams. They handle demolition, computer hacking; things like that. There's a captain in charge of them."

"Captain Tonok. He's a vulcan." Bolerov added.

Kirk nodded again. "That's it... well... and their two Corvettes. That's what you're getting." He pursed his lips. He figured the captain would get along swimmingly with them.

"Ah, yes... the two Corvettes. We'll finally get those two holes in the back of our ship filled." 

With that, the turbolift stopped and the doors opened. The captain motioned for Kirk to head out first. "Let's go meet Warlord's new security force." 


	4. Chapter 4

The first person through the hatchway was a middle aged human of thin build. He looked to be in his early forties. His skin was ruddy and his hair was a military cut brown, with more than an occasional gray. He, like all the others, carried a large duffle bag and a loaded backpack. They were dressed in typical gray/white camoflage gear. The silver leaves on his collar gave away his rank. As he stood up, he gave a quick salute to Captain Bolerov. "Captain Andrei Bolerov, I presume," he stated in a slow, southern draw. He extended his hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Sam Prichard, Starfleet Marines, Third Batallion."

Bolerov took his hand and shook it. The grip was, of course, quite tight, but Andrei did his best to match it. "Colonel, a pleasure. Welcome aboard the USS Warlord." He took his pained hand back.

"I gotta admit... I like the name," he said with a smile. Other Marines, dressed similarly to him, began filing past and lining up down the hall. Kirk saw human men and women, as well as a few alien species line up.

"May I introduce my first officer, Commander Stephen Kirk." He motioned to Stephen with his good hand.

"The pleasure's mine, Commander," Prichard said. He extended his hand.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Kirk nodded. He took Prichard's hand and shook it. Their grips matched strength ounce for ounce, leaving them both a little sore.

Prichard nodded. "Now that's a Marine handshake if ever I felt one. Where'd you serve?" He asked with a smile.

Kirk shook out his hand and smiled. "Thirty-fifth infantry and the hundred and ninth squardon, Sir."

Prichard raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Dang, son... you sure got around."

"Yeah, but he barely passed OCS!" Came a familiar voice from inside the hatch.

Kirk poked his head around the corner to see his old classmate walk through. "I scored higher than you!" He retorted with a smile.

In came a man in his mid thirties, roughly the same height as Stephen, but broader in the shoulders. His military haircut was so blonde it was almost white. His head almost looked too small for his body. From the looks of him, he wasn't all muscle any more, like he was when Kirk remembered him. "Just 'cause I was dumber than you doesn't mean you aren't dumb." He anwered back in his Wisconsin, almost Canadian accent. The two greeted each other with a hearty handshake as well. If this kept up, Kirk wouldn't be able to use his hand for the next several days. Other officers filed in behind them as the enlisted troops continued to walk in. The individual discussions began to increase in volume.

Prichard and Bolerov laughed. "Captain," Prichard finally started, "This is Captain Connor." The captains shook hands... Connor's being much more gentle. A woman, built more like a man, with short, red hair stepped out and stood at attention. "This is Lieutenant Thackery."

"Gentlemen," she answered with intense, green eyes as she shook hands. Her voice was high-pitched. It reminded Stephen of a fork scraping against a plate.

A tall, thin vulcan appeared behind her. "This is Captain Tonok."

"Captain," he acknowledged and shook hands expressionlessly. He turned to Stephen. "Commander," he acknowledged as well. They nodded in reply.

Finally, another red head, this one belonging to a thin human male, stepped through. His eyes were bright green. He looked alert and ready for fun. "Finally," Prichard announced, "Lieutenant O'Shea."

"A pleasure, gentlemen," O'Shea said with a prominant Irish accent. He shook their hands. They responded in kind.

"Well, that's my command staff," Prichard concluded. "Where are we bunkin'?"

Bolerov nodded as the last of the Marines boarded. "Starfleet thought you would want to be as close to the Corvettes as possible. Deck six has been designed especially for you. It has quarters, a common meeting room, a central command room, an exercise room, an entertainment room, and hangar bays for your ships."

Prichard smiled broadly. "That sounds perfect. You might want to move any starship personnel off that floor, though. We can get kinda roudy." He gave Bolerov an elbow to his arm.

Not seeing the humor, Bolerov replied, "Don't worry. You have the entire floor to yourselves, but I do hope your people will take every opportunity to get to know their shipmates."

"We certainly will," Prichard answered gleefully. He turned back to his company. "You ladies are gonna make sure you get to know the people you're babysittin', right?"

"Yes, Sir!" They yelled in unison before breaking down in laughter.

Bolerov cast a semi-concerned look to his first officer. Restraint... self-discipline... control... these were the hallmarks of the military... weren't they?

Kirk simply pursed his lips and tried to smile. This was going to be interesting. 


	5. Chapter 5

Captain Bolerov found himself standing on the bridge of the Warlord alone. Despite the relative smallness of the bridge, it still looked daunting when no one else was there. He knew he came up here for a reason, but it had left him. He stared at the patterned olive and gray hard rubber deck plates. He rested his rear end on the hand rail separating the secondary bridge stations from the main floor and looked at the various consoles before him. He wanted to use one of them.

Bolerov rubbed his temples. Then, it dawned on him. He wanted to make an announcement of some kind. Yes, that was it. He wanted to use the intercom system to welcome the new crewmembers! He let out an audible sigh of relief and leaned forward towards the communications console. Thankfully, the layout wasn't that much different than on the USS Vigilant.

The lights on the already smoky bridge went out as the another set of alarms crecendoed the existing alarms. Within a second, red lights above the turbolift doors and floor plates came on bathing the bridge in an eerie blood color. Sparks rained from an overloaded power coupling in the ceiling over the navigation console. Lieutenant Commander O'Neill was thrown from his chair, but climbed back in, his face being perforated by red-hot sparks.

"We've lost main power!" Lieutenant Bosa yelled.

"My weapons console is dead," added Lieutenant Iieria calmly.

Captain Bolerov had to make a quick decision. Weapons were down. Shields were down. Main power was gone. As much as he hated it, fighting was out. There was only one option available. He spun in his command chair to face his communications officer. He sat stalwart, but obviously panicked, at his communications console. "Lieutenant Curran, alert the crew... all hands abandon ship."

Bolerov slammed his eyes shut and shook his head, forcing the memory away. He refused to allow these memories to affect him any more... not again. His thoughts meandered towards his new group of Marines. Somehow, they symbolized the mind he thought he had... an illusion of discipline and self control being broken into a reality that was almost uncontrollable. "No!" He agrued. "That is NOT me. I WILL finish what I started." With a look of almost enraged determination, he pushed himself to the communications console and pressed a series of buttons.

"Attention new cremembers of the starship Warlord," he began. His voice was almost angry. "This is your captain speaking." He attempted to calm himself, but he had something to say. It was more to himself, but directed at the crew. "Welcome aboard. I want you to realize the posting to which you have been assigned. In its short history, this vessel has already served with distinction and honor. Its crew have performed far beyond expectations. Their talent and determination have redefined excellence. I expect nothing less from any of you. In fact, I demand nothing less. Get settled in, then contact your department's duty officer for your shift and station. That is all." He pressed the comm button again, his hand shaking.

"I demand nothing less." His own voice repeated in his mind. Bolerov looked at the chronometer. He had almost two hours before the peace delegation arrived. He decided to head back to his quarters and calm himself with a drink or two. 


	6. Chapter 6

Stephen Kirk ran into transporter room one still buttoning his dress uniform. T'Nia was already present and dressed perfectly. Chief Engineer Tom Kelly was at the transporter controls. He was fortunate enough to be dressed in his normal uniform.

Stephen scoffed at him. "Nice uniform."

Kelly smiled. "I'm not part of the 'meet-and-greet'."

Kirk continued to argue with the buttons. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate dress uniforms?" He asked rhetorically.

"More often than I can count," T'Nia answered dryly.

Kirk stuck his tongue out at her as he finished buttoning the top. Kelly smiled. T'Nia raised an eyebrow. "And that is the action of the first officer," she remarked. "My confidence in our leadership grows."

Kirk couldn't help but laugh, but that brought up a point he had been dying to discuss. "Speaking of leadership, where's the captain?"

"Said he was running a few minutes late, but he'd be here." Kelly replied in his trademark Australian accent.

Kirk nodded. "Did either of you catch the captains 'welcome aboard' speech?" T'Nia nodded.

Kelly added, "If you could call it that... sounded more threatening than welcoming, if you ask me." He added a nod.

"The captain has his own way," T'Nia offered emotionlessly.

"I agree with Tom," Stephen countered. "He's really starting to worry..."

The transporter panel began beeping, causing the three to stare at it. Tom pressed a few buttons. "That's Starfleet Command. The peace delegation's ready to come aboard."

Kirk shook his head and looked mildly frustrated. He then tapped his comm badge. "Kirk to Captain Bolerov."

The transporter room door slid open and Bolerov stepped in quickly, slightly out of breath. "I'm right here," he said, trying to catch his breath. Those naps were going to have to end. Perhaps he would need to take more stims so he could stay awake. He ran his fingers through his hair and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He turned to Tom. "Are they ready?"

He nodded, still a bit shocked. "Yes, Sir."

Bolerov made a grand gesture with his hand. "Then bring them aboard, Lieutenant."

After a few button clicks and the zip of a slider bar, the circular transporter pad lit from beneath with a white light. Soon, the entire area was shrouded in white, shimmering sparkles. As the shower of sparkles faded, five individuals stood on the pad. In the center was the recently promoted Admiral Jean Luc Picard. The five made their way off the pad as Bolerov moved to greet Picard.

The two locked arms and kissed each other on one cheek, then the next. "Andrei," Picard said with a bright smile.

"Jean Luc!" Bolerov replied with a smile. They clapped each other on the back.

Kirk leaned closer to T'Nia and whispered. "I didn't know they knew each other. Did you?" Without turning her head, she barely shrugged and shook her head. 


	7. Chapter 7

An hour later, Kirk and Kelly being the only two in the transporter room, another beamed board. When the swirling sparkles of energy faded, a tall, thin black man stepped forward carrying a pair of suitcases, a dufflebag, and a guitar case strapped to his back. His facial features were long and thin as well. He looked to be in his late thirties with alert, brown eyes. His hair was cut close to his scalp and he sported a thin mustache. He looked around with a look of confidence.

Kirk stepped forward. "Commander Richards?" The dark man nodded with a smile. "I'm Stephen Kirk. Welcome aboard the Warlord." He extended a hand.

Richards stepped off the transporter pad and dropped most of his luggage to shake Stephen's hand. "Nice to meet you, Commander. Sorry for all the mixup."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault they didn't check what time zone you were in when they told you fourteen hundred hours." Kirk replied with a smile. "Unfortunately, Captain Bolerov is still schmoozing the peace delegation, so you're stuck with me."

Kelly cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, yeah... our engineering guy is here." Kirk added with a laugh, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. 

"Yeah... I'll keep that in mind the next time you want your atoms sent thousands of kilometers away." He remarked with a wink.

Kirk and Richards chuckled. "Commander, I'd like to introduce you to the best engineer in the fleet, Lieutenant Tom Kelly. Tom, this is Commander Kenyon Richards."

The two shook hands. "Pleasure to meet ya." Tom said.

Richards lit up. "Hey... an Aussie. Where you from?"

"Just outside of Brisbane." He said with a nod.

Richards nodded. "All right... I went to a jazz concert in Sydney last year."

"Let me get one of those," Kirk said, pointing to his luggage.

"Thanks," Kenyon replied, handing Stephen one of the bags. He picked up the rest of his bags.

"You're on deck five with most of the rest of us. Follow me."

The two headed out. "Take it easy, Tom."

Lieutenant Kelly made a mock salute. "Catch ya later."

They walked down the narrow hall towards the turbolift. Kenyon was actually quite excited to be aboard the Warlord. True, it was more of a horizontal move than a vertical move. He had been the second officer aboard the USS Hood for three years. However, this was a completely different scenario. To go from an eighty year old ship that should have been retired decades ago to a state-of-the-art warship, the first warship ever commissioned by Starfleet... this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Ever since he heard the great grandson of James T. Kirk was aboard, he had been dying to ask him a few questions. Now would be a good a time as any. "So..." he started cautiously. "I know you've got royalty in your blood. That either means you love talking about it hate talking about it. Which is it?" He asked, still smiling.

Kirk nodded, grateful that Kenyon was willing to ask and not assume. "Generally, I hate it... but a question or two here or there I don't mind."

Kenyon nodded. "I can respect that."

The reached the turbolift and stepped in. "Deck five, section three." Kirk announced. The turbolift gently accellerated as it maneuvered this way and that.

"Okay... give me the info. What can this thing really do? Whenever I asked at Starfleet, all they'd say was 'Just wait'."

"Jeez," Kirk remarked, thinking hard. "Where to start? Well... for starters, it has a primary and secondary drive system. The secondary drive normally powers the main defenses; the primary shields and the neutron cannons."

"Yeah... start with those," Richards said expectantly.

"I don't know the details, but the shields are regenerative dispersion shields. Anything fired at them gets dispersed throughout the entire shield grid... and they regenerate, so they're awfully hard to take down. We also have a secondary shield system that works like the shields we're used to. The neutron cannons... there are two of them. They're variable frequency, rapid fire cannons. Not much more I can say on that... except... at half power, they ripped through a warbird with power to spare."

"Nice... I can't wait to see those babies in action," Richards commented with a twinkle in his eye.

Kirk grinned. "It does give you quite the feeling of safety. Well, that and the ablative armor on the outer hull. And... there's a static field between the outer and inner hulls. That prevents scanning and transporting to... sensitive... parts of the ship."

"Nice touch." Richards cocked his head. "How many crew does this beast have?"

Kirk's smile grew. "About two hundred eighty."

Richard's eyes bulged. "You're kidding! This thing is bigger than a galaxy class!"

"Well, that's deceptive. The outer hull makes it look a lot bigger than it is. And, we've got redundant EVERYTHING and automated systems and... well... all kinds of junk that takes up space. I've been told this ship can function normally with a crew of thirty."

Richards shook his head and whistled. "No wonder they want to keep this things specs under wraps."

"Yep... and we haven't even really touched the secondary weapons systems yet."

"Yeah, I saw the phaser array rings from pictures."

Kirk gave a wry grin. "Those are pulse phaser arrays."

Kenyon looked incredulous. "Nuh, uh. You can't put pulse phasers into an array emitter."

Kirk nodded. "Oh, yes you can."

Richards shook his head and smiled wide. "This is going to be fun."

"It's interesting. I'll give you that." 


	8. Chapter 8

"Come in, come in," Bolerov urged Admiral Picard.

The bald-headed, short bearded Frenchman stepped inside. The doors slid silently closed behind him. "Thank you," he answered graciously.

Bolerov motioned to his aged, leather couch. "Have a seat."

Picard chuckled and shook his head. "You're still carrying around these old things?" He stoked the back of the couch. Although it was in extremely good condition for its age, there were several noticable cracks and chips in the leather. "I remember when we tried to ram these things into your quarters on the Stargazer."

Bolerov chuckled at the memory. That, at least, was a memory worth remembering. "My quarters were slightly smaller then." He took a quick evaluation of his current quarters and determined it was roughly three times the size of his quarters on the Stargazer.

Picard sat down. At least the cushions were still soft. "We tried to transport the damn thing in three times before giving up. You kept insisting it would fit..."

Bolerov headed towards his bookshelf. "And I was right," he commented, pointing at Picard. "Would you like a drink?"

Picard craned his neck to look over the recliner. "If it's that Siberian vodka you're famous for acquiring, yes."

Bolerov pushed open a group of books that was actually the door of a small freezer. "Anything less would be considered mouthwash." He countered with a smile. Andrei pushed through a number of empty bottles until he found one that still had some of the liquor in it. Picard noted the number of empty bottles with a brief look of concern. He quickly grabbed a couple of glasses from the kitchenette and headed back to the living quarters, pouring as he walked.

Putting the bottle down and handing a glass to Jean Luc, he sat down with a grunt. Picard offered up his glass. "To the memories of sacrifices past and the hope of a better future for them."

"Here, here," the glasses klinked.

The vodka still burned as Picard remembered, causing him to take a quick, deep breath. Still somewhat relaxed from the drinking he had done earlier, the bite of the vodka barely affected Bolerov. "By the way," Andrei started, pointing in Picard's direction, "congratulations on your promotion. It was well deserved and long overdue." He raised his glass again.

Picard raised his glass as well. "And to your unretirement, Captain. It would seem Starfleet still has purpose for us both." They took another drink. Picard sat back in the overstuffed couch and looked around. "This is an impressive ship you helped build."

Bolerov shook his head. "I didn't build it. I was just part of the oversight committee. It IS impressive, though... much more than I ever imagined it would be. If we had only had this during the Dominion War..."

"Well, she's here now," Picard said optimistically, "and she's already made great strides in bringing about peace."

"I'd like to think so," Bolerov took another long drink.

Picard considered him thoughtfully. "Are you alright? You look tired."

The captain smiled wearily. "I'm fine. I guess I'm still adjusting to being back in the 'big chair'. Times have changed." He took another drink. "It would seem I didn't change with them."

Picard pointed absently at the table. "You know, I once felt the same way; shortly after I took command of the Enterprise. The bridge had carpeting on the floor; no metal deckplates. The deck rail was oak trimmed, for heaven's sake." He began to smile at the memories. "There were CHILDREN running around the ship. I had a counselor sitting next to me, second guessing my every intention. Then... as if to further mock me, I was presented with the teenage son of Jack Crusher."

Bolerov had to smile at the name 'Jack Crusher'. He hadn't thought of Jack in years. Andrei was at the party when Jack proposed to that red head... what was her name... Beverly. The memories came flooding back. He had no idea Jack had a son. "How did you cope?" He asked distantly.

"I got to know my crew." He answered simply. "Not just as shipmates, but as friends. Slowly, I changed... and I didn't mind at all."

Bolerov looked down, visibly saddened. "I just don't think I can do that again, Jean Luc. I don't think I have it in me any more."

Jean Luc took another drink. "I understand how difficult it is for you. We lost a lot of good people on the Stargazer as well..."

Bolerov interrupted, looking up. He looked almost desperate. "Not like that... not the way I lost my crew on the Vigilant..." He couldn't finish. The memories were starting to resurface again. He finished his drink with a hard gulp and forced them back.

Picard observed his old shipmate with compassion. He remembered reading the report... not because it was the only one; there were dozens of incident reports, but because his old friend's name was on the report. It truly must have been a horrible experience to go through. "I can't imagine what you must have felt." The two sat in silence for several moments. "Perhaps, once this mission is over, you'll be able to take some time to rest and reflect." He forced a smile. "I won't claim to be a councelor, Andrei, but I think getting to know your crew will help you heal your wounds. I've already had the pleasure of meeting many of them. They're good people, Andrei, and worth getting to know. Just give it some time."

Andrei's mind was still a jumble of memories of the distant and recent past. All he could do was look sorrowfully at the table in front of him. "We have some leave time coming after this mission," he said finally. "That should help."

"You should consider talking to a councelor. They can help." Picard offered. "I found my ship's councelor occasionally intrusive, presumptuous, and frustrating... and absolutely indispensable."

"We'll see." 


	9. Chapter 9

T'Nia had just finished taking a long, hot bath. Her time spent with humans had yielded many benefits, though most vulcans would debate using the term 'benefits'. In particular was her desire to use lavender scented bath salts. Another was her ability to pull her uncharacteristically long hair back into a ponytail. With her flower-dotted, cream colored silk robe on, she ordered a nice cup of warm spice tea. She sat down on her couch, eager to get back to her book on the history of Klingon combat, when the comm badge on her side table clicked. "Bridge to Lieutenant Commander T'Nia," a female voice began. T'Nia recognized it as Elaine Davies. There didn't appear to be any urgency in Elaine's voice, so she assumed there was no shipwide emergency. As T'Nia had noticed, Elaine had a rather unfortunate habit of overreacting.

Putting her book down, she picked up her badge and tapped its face. "This is T'Nia. Go ahead Lieutenant."

"Sir," she began, "you have an incoming message from Vulcan. It's from someone named Sekir. He says he's your fiancee. I didn't know you were engaged..." her voice sounded playful, as though they were sorority sisters and she just learned a juicy, new tidbit of information.

T'Nia was almost annoyed at the fact a personal piece of her life had escaped the confidence of her currently estranged trio of friends. "It's not something that comes up under duty-oriented conversations." She said flatly. "Please send the transmission down here. T'Nia out." She tapped the comm badge before Elaine could say anything else.

Within a few seconds, the wall-based video panel in her living quarters illuminated to reveal the rounded face of her betrothed. He was obviously in his home; as evidenced by the background objects. "Live long and prosper, my betrothed," he said with a thoughtful look.

"Peace and long life, my betrothed," she responded with simliar emotionlessness. "What can I do for you?"

"My betrothed, Our Koonut Kalif-fee is seventeen months away. My mother wished to know if your family required assistance planning for it."

"To my knowledge, no," she replied. T'Nia was actually a little put off by his family's request. "My mother is making the arragements. I have been approving them, since I obviously cannot be on Vulcan."

"I see," he replied slowly. "It would be agreeable to see you at least once more before our wedding day, T'Nia."

She knew that was coming... he always brought that up. "As I have stated several times before; my current duties have not allowed me the option to visit Vulcan." In the spirit of full truthfullness, she added, "However, with the addition of a new second officer, I should be able to ask for time off. In fact, once our current mission to Cardassia is over, I might be able to arrange transport to Vulcan. We have been promised a two week leave."

"Good," he nodded. "Good."

"I still do not understand your insistance that we meet. Are you concerned I am not the same person you've known since childhood?"

He sat up straight, with a distant and official look. "Speaking truthfully, yes." 

She looked geniunely suprised. "Please explain," she asked curiously.

"Well, to begin with... look at you." He motioned towards her with his hand. "Your hair and that robe. No self-respecting vulcan woman would wear such things. It is inappropriate."

Despite years of vulcan meditation, self control, and training, she found herself getting defensive. "First of all," she began, levelling her speech, but standing up, "I would question the number of 'self-respecting vulcan women' you know. I doubt you could, logically, speak for them all. Secondly, there are many vulcan women who have worn their hair long. In fact, not long ago, it was considered fashionable. Third; there is a human saying, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.' There is nothing 'inappropriate' about a bath robe. It is, actually, quite comfortable."

He motioned towards the screen again. "This is also what I mean. You are quite... well... confrontational. I work with several women at my job, in case you had forgotten." His voice was still quite calm. "They have all made comments regarding your hair. The time period to which you are referring was shortly after the Reformation, almost two hundred years ago. Therefore, it is a logical concern I have. After all, you just quoted a human saying. When was the last time you quoted a vulcan?"

That was a poor arguement to make, she thought. "Earlier this afternoon, Sekir."

He appeared to be slightly shaken from his arguement. "I see," was all he could manage.

"As I stated, my betrothed," she emphasized that last word, "I shall attempt..." Just then, the door chime chirped next to her front door. "Come," she said quickly, knowing full well who it was.

"Evening, T'Nia..." Kirk said with a smile as he walked in. He then saw the Sekir's face on her viewscreen. "Oh..." His expression changed quickly. "If I'm interrupting something, I can come back..."

"Not at all, Commander," T'Nia interrupted. His arrival couldn't have come at a more opportune moment. "Sekir and I were just concluding our talk." Her statement futher visibly caught Sekir off-guard.

Kirk turned to the viewscreen. He waved and smiled weakly. "Hey, Sekir. It's been awhile."

"Commander," Sekir acknowledged tersely.

"As I was stating," T'Nia resumed, "I shall attempt to find a transport back to Vulcan upon the completion of our current mission. We can finish our discussions then."

"As you wish, my betrothed," he admitted finally. He held his hand up in a V pattern, his pointer and middle fingers together, his ring and pinky fingers together. "Live long and prosper, T'Nia."

She reciprocated the gesture. "Live long and prosper, Sekir." The screen went black.

Kirk turned to T'Nia. "That looked pleasant," he said sacracastically.

"Sekir wishes me to return to Vulcan." She admitted, sitting back down.

"That's nothing new," Kirk remarked.

"True... but this was the first time he voiced his concerns that I am not the same person I used to be." She seemed to be genuinely preoccupied with that thought.

"Well, everybody changes. It's a fact of life. We grow older, we're molded by our experiences and friendships... we change."

She politely corrected him. "Humans change because emotional states change. Logic is logic. If he perceives what I merely consider preferences and tolerances as a changes in my person... I should investigate further. He may be correct. And, as he reminded me, he will be my husband in seventeen months."

"Oh, yeah," Stephen remarked. "I forgot about your wedding day. Well, if you're heading to Vulcan after this mission, I guess that shoots the reason why I came down." He looked a little disappointed.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Kirk nodded, "if this mission finishes up pretty quickly, we'd be back to Earth in time for the Super Bowl. I was going to try to get us all tickets... but... if you're heading to Vulcan..."

"Get me a ticket, anyway," she said with an almost smile. "Upon conclusion of my self-examination, I may discover HE is wrong." 


	10. Chapter 10

The doors to the turbolift opened with a hiss. Admiral Picard and his party of four stepped out onto the bridge of the USS Warlord. Elaine was the first person to speak up. "Admiral on the bridge!" she announced. Everyone quickly stood.

Picard quickly motioned to everyone on the bridge. "Sit down, sit down. I'm here merely as an observer," he defended himself with a smile. The crew sat down and returned to their duties with a smile.

"Welcome to the bridge, Admiral, everyone," Bolerov said with a smile.

"Thank you, Captain," Picard answered sincerely. He looked around and marveled at the smallness of this bridge. It was roughly half the size of the Enterprise bridge, but with roughly the same color scheme. As he looked around, it looked almost exactly like a smaller version of the Enterprise bridge. Between the two turbolifts were four computer stations. A gray and silver hand rail ringed the central area of the bridge, with two small stairsets leading down to the center, where the nerve center was. In the lowered area was the captain's seat, with an open seat on either side. In front of the captain's seat was a dual console. A door to Picard's left was, presumably, the ready room and another door, on the far side, was most likely a head.

"I believe you already met most of my crew," Bolerov offered. He pointed to the left side of the front dual console. "Our chief navigator, Ensign Bristol." Picard nodded. He pointed to the right side of the console, occupied by an Andorian. "Normally, Lieutenant Commander T'Nia would be sitting there, but she's off duty. This is Lieutenant M'ovara"

Picard smiled. "Lieutenant."

Bolerov continued. "Behind me is Lieutenant Moreau at systems administration. Next to him is Lieutenant Davies, our communications officer." Picard nodded to each of them, remembering them from the award ceremony. "Our latest addition is the gentleman to my right, Commander Richards, our science officer."

"Admiral, it's a pleasure, Sir." Richards said with a sincere smile. Jean Juc Picard was one of those few people who could be accurately described as a living legend. He had negotiated peace treaties, settled countless disputes, provided first contact for over a dozen new species, and was one heck of a combat officer to boot. Truth be told, Kenyon had attempted to get transferred to the Enterprise for the past five years, but the bridge-based science station positions had always been full.

"A pleasure to meet you, Commander." He turned to face the bridge crew. "For those of you we haven't met yet, allow me to introduce my negotiation team." He motioned the middle aged woman with short, pepper gray hair standing next to him; one of two people dressed in civilian clothing. "This is Doctor Leslie McIntyre, our specialist on Cardassian history." He pointed to a fairly tall, thin vulcan male who appeared to be in his late sixties, in Earth years. "This is Ambassador Solek of Vulcan." Picard then moved to a shorter, slightly overweight human with short, white, wiry hair, dressed in a Starfleet uniform. "This is Admiral Alan Callis; a man who's forgotten more negotiations than I have ever been part of." The group chuckled. Finally, he pointed to a woman with large, black eyes also wearing civilian clothes. "And this is Ambassador Arianna Liss of Betazed." The bridge crew and peace team exchanged pleasantries for several moments.

Eventually, Commander Richards spoke up. "Captain, I have two contacts, bearing three-one-six mark four-seven."

"I suppose those are our Cardassian escorts," Picard remarked.

Bolerov turned to Richards. "Commander?"

Moments later, Richards turned back to the captain. "Confirmed... two Cardassian Galor class cruisers on an intercept course."

"They're liable to be a bit put off by this ship," Picard said to Bolerov with a smile.

"They wanted diplomats, they got diplomats. Whether or not they prefer the mode of transportation is really none of my concern." Bolerov replied flatly.

Picard chuckled.

Lieutenant Davies spoke up. "Captain, the Cardassians are hailing us."

"Put it on screen," Picard and Bolerov said simulaneously. 

Picard chuckled and put his hand on Bolerov's shoulder. "Some hold habits die harder than others."

The ridged face of a Cardassian ship commander filled the front viewscreen. He was thin, with dark black hair and brown, angled uniform that looked intolerably uncomfortable. There was a look of concern on his face. "This is Gul Magrid of the Cardassian defense ship Beshan. We were expecting a Federation peace delegation..."

Picard offered up his hands in a show of peace. "I am Admiral Jean Luc Picard. The peace delegation you seek is aboard this vessel."

Gul Magrid looked unconvinced. "I thought you commanded the Enterprise."

"I do," he answered with a calm smile. "It is currently docked on Earth for repairs and upgrades. Because the Federation didn't want to let this historic opportunity pass, Starfleet generously offered the services of this vessel as transportation. Allow me to introduce the captain of this fine vessel." With a grand gesture, he motioned to the seated captain, who stood. Secretly, he was really hoping not to get brought into the dog-and-pony show. "This is Captain Andrei Bolerov; captain of the USS Warlord."

"That's a very big ship you have there, Captain," the Cardassian captain remarked.

"It serves its purpose," Bolerov countered with a wry smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Gul Magrid." He waited several seconds before continuing. "We await your escort to Cardassia Prime."

"... of course." Magrid stuttered momentarily. He quickly returned to his military stature. "Form us behind us and do not deviate from our flight plan or it will be treated as a hostile act."

"Don't worry," Bolerov offered. "We will not initiate any hostile acts." The Cardassian and Starfleet captains exchanged intense stares for mere moments, but it was enough for Picard to feel uneasy.

"Thank you for your generosity, Gul."

Gul Magrid let his eyes leave Bolerov's. His expression softened as he moved to face Picard. "You are quite welcome, Admiral. Beshan out." The viewscreen returned to the star dotted landscape of the space around them. 

"Ensign Bristol," Bolerov began, "engines all stop until the Cardassians arrive. Once they turn around and take formation, follow behind them and mimic their moves precisely. We'll come into a standard orbit when we reach Cardassia Prime."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Tyler made a number of button presses on his panel. "Registering all stop, Captain."

Bolerov sat back down with an 'oomph'. "For your sake, Admiral, I hope their intentions are true."

"I hope so, too," Picard countered, "for all our sakes." 


	11. Chapter 11

The crew and guests stood or sat for several minutes silently as the Cardassian vessels closed on Warlord's position. Slowly, the two crossed each other in front of the Warlord as they turned around to face Cardassia Prime. Eventually, a glow came from the engines of the Galor-class ships. The ships glowed brightly, then elongated to almost ridiculous proportions, like a rubber band being drawn back. Just like the same rubber band, they retracted to their original shapes, and vanished in flash of white.

Before Bolerov could say a word, Ensign Bristol had already plotted a mirror course, and engaged the warp engines of the Warlord. Stars elongated to lines of white growing longer and longer until, at once, they retracted to their original images of pinpoints flying past on the view screen. "Captain," Tyler began, "we're following the Cardassian ships to Cardassia Prime at warp six. We should be there in just under two hours."

"Expertly done, Ensign," Bolerov replied. He desperately wanted to leave the bridge and grab a quick drink or two. They were heading straight to his worst memories. The ghosts he thought he had left behind had been haunting his dreams for weeks. Now, he was heading, at warp six, to their resting place. He closed his eyes to force the images back again.

The doors to the turbolift slid open. Commander Kirk stepped out and greeted everyone briefly. He was greeted with a warm handshake from Admiral Picard. Happy to see someone who could 'officially' take over his seat, Bolerov waved Kirk over. "Commander, thank you for coming up early."

"No problem, Sir." Stephen replied.

"We have just under two hours before we reach Cardassia Prime. We're just following our escorts. If you don't mind, Commander, I think I'll duck into the ready room and take a quick nap." Bolerov stood to leave. "Ladies and gentlemen, I temporarily take my leave of you." The guests regarded him politely. Andrei turned to Stephen.

"I relieve you, Sir." Kirk said officially.

"I stand relieved, Commander... and thank you. I will make certain the computer wakes me well before our arrival." He walked off slowly to the ready room.

Kirk sat down in the captain's seat and looked around, noticing the guests who were standing. Slightly confused, he offered, "You know, we have spare chairs around here. The first officer's seat next to me is available and we have four seats built into the walls just in front of those doors there and there." He motioned to the door to the ready room and the door to the bathroom. "You just have to pull them out. You don't have to stand the whole two hours." He added with a smile.

The group thanked him and went to take seats. Admiral Picard was already sitting at the spare command seat to Kirk's left. Admiral Callis sat in the seat to Kirk's left. The other three diplomats pulled out the spare seats from the walls and sat down. Another several minutes went by in awkward silence.

Admiral Callis finally broke the silence. He recognized the Texas accent immediately. He had an unusually low voice that really didn't seem to fit his build. Kirk wondered how he had ever become such a key negotiator in Federation history. He neither looked like, nor sounded like, someone who would have much success in areas of diplomacy. "So, Commander, tell me... how does it feel flying around in the most butt-kicking starship in the known galaxy?" He asked with a big smile.

Other than twentieth century literature, Stephen didn't think he had ever heard the phrase 'butt-kicking' in his life. Taken a little off guard by the question, he had to smile. "It's... um... well... it's been... interesting." He said finally.

"This ship has already combat twice in its short life," Picard added, "and performed magnificently both times."

Callis waved him off. "Bah. A ship is just a pile of bolts, plates, beams and circuits. It's the crew that makes the difference." He motioned to the bridge crew, who had turned to look at him. "Y'all remember that, okay? You're the ones who make the difference, not this thing. Without you, this thing would just be taking up space." 

"I stand corrected," Picard concluded with a smile. The crew smiled as well, then turned back to their stations.

"Do you know Admiral Leonard?" Kirk asked Callis.

The portly admiral nodded. "He's one of the best in the business... and smoked my rear end in chess more times than I can count." The whole group chuckled. He looked around pleadingly. "No one TOLD me he was a fleet tactics specialist!" The group laughed louder. In mock frustration, he pushed himself back into the seat. "Some of the shortest chess games I've ever played..."

Kirk had been dying to get this group together and ask a few questions. Now would be a good a time as any. He turned, still light hearted, to Picard. "Admiral, if you don't mind my asking... do you know why the Cardassians are wanting to join? I thought they just wanted to be left alone."

"They realized they can't afford to," Doctor McIntyre answered from her seat next to the ready room. Picard nodded in agreement. McIntyre continued, "Once the Cardassian military turned on the Dominion, they were slaughtered. Their fleet has been reduced to nothing and all their major shipyards were destroyed. The military leaders who came to power during the war were all killed. What's left of the Detapa Council prior to the war has finally come out of hiding or exile. The few people left of the Obsidian Order have gone INTO hiding to avoid the lynching raids by a number of civilian vigilante squads who hold them responsible for what happened. They are small, defeated, and defenseless... and that won't be changing any time soon. They have no choice but to ally themselves with a group that can better protect them." He speech sounded rehearsed, as though she had given it at least a dozen times before.

Kirk looked more confused. "If they're in such chaos, why are we even going?"

"The current governing council claims they have control of the majority of the population, and enough control to make the request. That's why we're going. We're going to ensure they have the control they say they have. If they do, we'll help them form a charter of alliance for the Federation and get them incorporated. Once they are formally part of the Federation, we'll be able to provide must more assistance than we currently are."

"Ah," Stephen replied, nodding. It sounded WAY too political for him. "How long are you planning on this taking?" In the back of his mind, he was still holding out for catching the Super Bowl in person.

"Oh," Admiral Callis started, "it'll probably take at least six months to get it all rollin'. Then, we turn everything over the bureaucrats."

Kirk's eyes bulged. "Six months?"

Picard gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "We're just needed for a week or so... to make the initial determination of governmental stability." Kirk let out an audible sigh of relief, which made Picard smile. "After we give our reports and recommendations to the Federation Council, they'll send another team out."

The rest of the crew let out a sigh of relief as well. 


	12. Chapter 12

Commander Richards had been listening intently to the conversations next to him. This was still a very important part of the process, and he was thrilled to be there. If only his wife and son could be there. Regretfully, being part of an in-system patrol vessel meant keeping family members at home. Families were only permitted on long-term, deep-space exploration vessels, another reason why he wanted to be stationed on the Enterprise. The initial thought of being stuck in Cardassian space for six months almost made him jump out of his skin. Staying for a week... that sounded better. The last several days had been quite a chore for him. Not only was he adapting to a new crew and captain, he was still configuring the new console. The station he was sitting at was only meant for general use. The specific controls and displays for sensor analysis weren't included. Once the new console was installed and configured properly, Kenyon had spent the last two shifts trying to configure the sensor array properly. He was amazed anyone could see anything with the array as misaligned as it was.

Well, if forced to admit, they weren't that far out of line. Proclaiming the inaccuracies, however, had gone far to make him immediately invaluable to the captain. To him, Captain Bolerov was in his mid sixties, and wouldn't be on active duty much longer. Considering Kirk's proclaimed discomfort in the position he currently held, Kenyon could wind up the captain of the Warlord in a couple of years, when Bolerov retired again. That suited him just fine. In his mind, he repeated 'Captain Kenyon Richards'. It had a nice ring to it... and... if Bolerov retired within the next three years, Kenyon would make captain before he was forty.

For the sake of being overly thorough, he had been running complete diagnostics on the sensor equipment for his entire shift. The last thing on his list was a field test of the broad spectrum tachyon burst, the BTB. Kenyon had been curious about this technology ever since he was told it existed. For several years, Starfleet had been able to detect cloaked vessels by using a tachyon beam. This, however, was the first implementation of a refracted beam which created a three hundred-sixty by two hundred-seventy degree sweep that would encompass the entire area around a ship at once. Before, you either had to know the location of a cloaked device or ship, or hope it crossed the beam. Now, if it was anywhere within several ten thousand kilometers of the ship, it would get discovered. Supposedly, even improvements made to cloaking technology were still vulnerable to detection because of its wide range of detection frequencies.

With the conversation dying down at the center of the bridge, Richards decided to finish his testing. "Commander Kirk, I was finishing my sensor diagnostics earlier. Do you mind if I initiate a tachyon burst?"

Kirk scratched his head. "Weren't you testing that equipment yesterday?"

"Yeah, but I made a few adjustments after that," he added innocently.

Stephen briefly considered whether the Cardassian escorts would care, or even notice. "Na, I don't care. Let it go."

"Aye, aye, Sir," he replied officially. "Initiating broad spectrum tachyon burst." He pressed a button on his console. The graphic just above showed a radar-like display with a beam sweeping around a silhouette of the top of the ship. He was shocked, as was the rest of the group, when a dot lit up behind the silhouette. Like everyone else, Richards simply stared at the display for several moments.

Stephen was the first to speak up. "Commander... what WAS that?"

Richards shook his head. "I dunno, Sir. Let me do it again." He initiated the burst again in front of a slightly concerned group of people. This time, the sweep went cleanly. "Maybe it's just a glitch in the equipment." Kenyon offered with a shrug. "I'll give it another..."

"No, it wasn't," the Betazoid woman seated next to him countered. "I sensed a great deal of surprise and shock coming from back there. It's gone now, but there were a lot of somebodys back there who were more surprised than us, or I wouldn't have sensed them so far away."

Why couldn't this be easy, Kirk thought. "Commander Richards, go back in the logs. See if you can get any specs on the bogey."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Kenyon had to admit, he was a little uncomfortable about that. He wasn't expecting to find anything, but pull off a simple test. He looked quickly through the log entries and found the record of the tachyon burst. The only downside to these bursts was it didn't give details, just revealed presence.

"You don't suppose the romulans came out here?" Callis asked.

Picard shook his head. "I doubt it. They have their own problems right now... besides, after making such grandiose gestures of peace, it would seem counterproductive to be caught in the alpha quadrant now." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps it's the Defiant. Captain Kira Nerys is supposed to be attending at least part of this event."

Richards shook his head. "It's too big to be Defiant. I'm measuring it at just under four hundred meters in length, about two hundred meters wide."

"Perhaps a K'vort klingon cruiser," Callis offered.

Kirk shook his head. "No, those ships are wider than they are long." Callis shrugged. "I don't know what it is," Kirk admitted, "but our escorts need to know... so does the captain." He tapped his comm badge. "Bridge to Captain Bolerov." He waited a moment. "Kirk to Bolerov, I need you to wake up, Sir."

Eventually, Kirk's comm badge popped. "What is it, Commander?" the captain's voice asked weakly.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir, but we need you out here."

There was a heavy sigh. "I'll be right there." 


	13. Chapter 13

Bolerov was back in his seat. He had run his fingers through his short hair to make it look 'acceptable.' Within moments, he had been apprised of the situation. "Ambassador Liss, you are certain you felt a presence behind us?"

She nodded. "It was at least a dozen people, probably more. They were terrified... just for a moment... but they were there."

"But you cannot sense them now, correct?" He asked, his eyes narrowed, trying to focus.

She shook her head. "No, Sir. I get nothing now."

"Sounds like one of those upgraded Galor class ships the Cardassians used when they tried to destroy the Founders' homeworld a couple of years ago." Bolerov admitted.

Callis' eyes lit up. "A Kheldon class! Of course! The Tal'Shiar gave them cloaking devices for the surprise attack." The old admiral nodded with a grin.

Bolerov snapped his fingers. "Lieutenant Davies, get me Gul Magrid."

"Aye, Sir." Her hands glided over the controls. Within moments, she turned back around. "I have him. Putting him on screen."

The Gul looked slightly aggitated. Ambassador Liss closed her eyes and struggled to read the thoughts of the Cardassian captain. Being alone and so far away, it would be next to impossible to separate his thoughts and feelings from everyone else, if she could even sense that far. "Captain," the Gul began, his arms folded, "what can I do for you?"

"Gul Magrid," Bolerov began quickly, "we have strong reasons to believe there is an upgraded Galor class cruiser cloaked behind us."

Magrid's ridged eyes grew wide. "Really? How do you know this?"

Frustrated that Magrid wouldn't simply take his word on it, he answered, "We have technology on this ship that allows us to see through cloaks." He decided to keep the presence of the Betazoid quiet for now.

"Ah," Magrid knowingly commented, "that explains the tachyons your ship was spewing out several minutes ago. Where is this 'cloaked ship' you're speaking of?" He asked somewhat mockingly.

"It has left the range of our sensing equipment." Bolerov turned to Richards. "Have you found it yet?"

Richards shook his head. "Nothing, Sir."

Magrid looked incredulous. "I think your sensing equipment is faulty, Captain," he said finally. "There were very few of the enhanced Galors produced by the Obsidian Order. Most of them were destroyed in the Gamma quadrant. The few that survived were destroyed by the end of the war... along with the Obsidian Order itself. There aren't any more."

Arianna Liss struggled to the point of sweating. Her mind was searching, concentrating... desperately trying to identify Magrid thousands of kilometers away. Despite her best efforts, she simply couldn't find him.

"Gul Magrid, if you would simply..." Bolerov insisted.

Magrid interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Captain, please center your efforts on your equipment. If you find this cloaked ship again, contact me. Otherwise, all you're required to do is follow us to Cardassia Prime. Beshan out." The screen quickly went back to two Cardassian vessels against a backdrop of starlines.

"I truly HATE rude people," Bolerov commented aloud. He turned back to Richards. "Commander, continue perfoming random tachyon bursts. Perhaps we'll get lucky."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, then returned to his console.

"Well, whoever it was, at least they're gone now," Bristol commented.

Bolerov shook his head. "They're not gone, just further behind us." He turned to Picard, still seated to his left. "Jean Luc, you had better be careful about this little endeavor of yours."

Picard nodded, still staring at the viewscreen. "It would seem we have yet another variable to add to this equasion."

Warlord continued on its way to Cardassia Prime without further incident. 


	14. Chapter 14

With ease, Ensign Bristol settled the Warlord into a high orbit over the northern hemisphere of Cardassia Prime. It was an interesting globe, he remarked to himself. It was much closer to their sun than Earth, therefore most of the ground was golden brown. Only in the nothernmost and southernmost hemispheres was there an abundant green color. The bluish green of oceans were much smaller than earth, but far more numerous. Finally, he observed the clouds. On earth, they were usually billowy puffs, but here, they were much more elongated. He stared at the planet curiously as the two escort ships fell into a separate orbit; closer to the equator. It would be interesting to visit, he thought.

Lieutenant Davies watched as her communications panel lit up with activity. Listening carefully, she turned to the captain. "Captain, I have the transport coordinates for the peace delegation,"

Bolerov nodded, his head was killing him. "Send the coordinates to our transporter room." He turned to Picard, whom at this point he didn't envy one bit. "Admiral, I believe you're on. If you'd like, I can show you to the transporter..."

Picard raised his hands with a smile. "Captain, it would only seem right for you to accompany us on this historic occasion." The other four nodded in agreement.

Bolerov's eyes grew wide. He really needed a drink, or at least a rest... preferrably both. "Ah..." he stammered. "I believe Starfleet protocol demands I remain behind, in case of trouble." Picard shot him a knowing glance. His mind instantly came up with an alternative. "Commander Kirk, however, should be able to accompany you." He smiled wide.

"I'm due to start my shift now," Kirk offered defensively. A meet-and-greet on Cardassia was the LAST place he wanted to be, especially when there was a cloaked ship somewhere nearby. He would really love to visit Cardassia, but not like this... not as some kind of political posturing. Bolerov really wasn't about to throw HIM into all this, was he?

"Commander, I believe Mr. Richards can take over your shift. I'm sure he won't mind. I shall remain on stand-by." Bolerov answered with a wry smile.

"Not a problem, Sir," Richards replied gleefully. 

"I think it's a splendid idea," Picard added. Jean Luc had a feeling about Stephen, anyway. Getting him this kind of experience would invaluable to his career.

"See?" Bolerov shrugged. "It's settled." Bolerov shooed him with his hands towards the door. "Go, go, go. Be a good representative for our ship, Commander. I expect a full report when you're back." Bolerov was almost singing the last few words. His mind was already imagining the quickest way to get back to his quarters.

The peace group headed towards the turbolift. As Kirk walked past Tony's station, Tony tugged him on the sleeve. "Have fun," he said offering a sympathetic smile. He wasn't one to voice his concerns. He normally just took things as they came and made the most of them. However, Captain Bolerov had been acting strangely for the past month or so. In the beginning, Bolerov had been a real control freak. Lately, though, he was barely reachable.

"Thanks," Stephen replied with a look of concern only Tony and Elaine could see. He joined the peace delegation on the turbolift and headed for the transporter room. 


	15. Chapter 15

As the shimmering shower of silvery sparkles faded, the delegation found themselves in a large, circular room lined with concentric tables starting at floor level and going up as a large ampitheater. The room itself was easily twenty meters high and at least twice as wide. It was sandy stone in construction with patterned carpeting on the floor. There were, easily, at least hundred chairs stationed around the various tables at the different elevations. It reminded Stephen of being at a coliseum. Of all the seats, not even a third were populated. A dozen or so Cardassians were on the ground level in the center along with the recently transported Federation team.

Admiral Picard smiled widely as a tall, portly Cardassian with large lambchops on either side of his face approached. Although his hair was still jet black, the wrinkles on his face belied his age. "Chief Councilman Dogran," he said warmly. He extended his hand as four other Cardassians approached with him.

"Admiral Picard," he answered with a smile. He took Picard's hand and shook it warmly. "It's very good to see you in person."

"The pleasure is mine, Councilman." Picard countered. He extended a hand to his team. "Allow me to introduce the principle members of the Federation delegation. This is Vulcan ambassador Solek, Betazed ambassador Arianna Liss, Doctor Leslie McIntyre and..."

The councilman reached for the other Admiral with the frizzy hair. "I know you..." he said quickly. He took Admiral Callis' hand and shook it animatedly as he visibly struggled to remember. "Callis!" He proudly exclaimed. "Alan Callis."

The admiral shook his hand back. "Lanes Dogran," he replied warmly. "It has been awhile. hasn't it?"

"Good... you know each other already," Picard concluded.

The Cardassian pointed to Callis. "Almost ten years ago, wasn't it?" Callis nodded. "Admiral Callis here was part of the delegation for the final Federation-Cardassian peace treaty."

"You were just a freshman councilman then. Now look at you!"

"Ha!" Dogran retorted. "I'm here only because, when they asked for leaders to take a step forward, everyone else took a step back!" The groups laughed. Realizing he had been remiss, Dogran stepped back. "Where are my manners?" He offered a smallish Cardassian woman with long, brown hair. "This is Kin Valen, my executive assistant." She smiled at everyone. He gestured to the tired, but smiling Cardassian male standing next to him who looked almost too young. "Councilman Ross Tagril... and last, but certainly not least," he gestured to another slightly overweight, older Cardassian male, "hero to all of Cardassia, Councilman Elim Gerak."

Picard smiled as he shook Gerak's hand. News of the former Deep Space Nine inhabitant had travelled far in the months following the end of the Dominion War. "You have come a long way from being a simple tailor on a space station around Bajor."

"And believe me, Admiral, there have been many times when I have longed for those days," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

The Chief Councilman turned his gaze to Stephen. "And who might you be, Sir?"

Stephen stood up straight. He was SO hoping to avoid direct dialogue. "Commander Stephen Kirk, Councilman."

Picard added, "He is the first officer of the vessel that brought us safely here."

Dogran extended his hand. "We are extremely grateful for your services, Commander. Please extend our thanks to your crew."

Kirk shook his hand. "Thank you, Sir. I will." THAT certainly went fairly smoothly. Just then, Stephen's comm badge began to pop and whine. Kirk tapped it. "This is Kirk. Go ahead." The group, occupying themselves with small talk, stopped to look. There was no voice in reply; simply more popping and whistling and static. Kirk tapped his badge a few more times as Admiral Picard intently looked on.

"Is there a problem, Commander?" Picard asked.

After a handful of additional attempts to quiet the noisy device, he quickly took it off and switched off the communicator from behind. He shook his head. "I dunno, Sir. It's been working fine." He shook it; more a symbolic act of frustration than an actual attempt to fix it.

"Dor e'ck vaas, mo'skt eln keev'et noln?" Dogran spoke to Kirk. Smiling innocently, Kirk merely held up his communicator and shrugged.

"I'm afraid without his communications device, he won't be able to understand you," Picard offered to Dogran.

Dogran patted Kirk on the shoulder. "Edred vos'ak perid il'dusa!" The group laughed.

Picard, smiling, leaned closer to Stephen. "He said he would do his best not to insult you."

"Great..." Kirk replied. This was going to be a LONG afternoon. 


	16. Chapter 16

Although there were a half dozen maintenance rooms scattered throughout the starship, Stephen had to admit he had never been to one. This was doubly disappointing considering one of his best friends, Box, worked out of one of the larger rooms. The double doors of the room slid open with a hiss to reveal a room roughly twice the size of his quarters. It was, quite literally, filled with cabinets, shelves, boxes, and crates. Four large tables with various pieces of equipment were stationed along the walls of the room. Stephen saw two humans in the room; one was working on a phaser rifle, the other had a lighting console in pieces. Coming over the room speaker was a horrid combination of violins, drums, and what sounded like screams of pain. 

Along the back wall, he saw his friend, Lieutenant Box. Box was a Hamalki, a race of semitransparent crystalline spiders. he was almost as tall as a human and over two meters in length. His semitransparent skin allowed a somewhat disturbing look at a sack within his torso that displayed his major organs. Atop his head were eight, black eyes. His mouth was probably the most intimidating feature about him; it could easily encompass a human head and was filled with large, razor sharp fangs. Despite his size, his twelve spindly legs did quite a remarkable job in not only supporting him, but allowing him to run very quickly. His body also had the added benefit of being somewhat malleable. He could form pockets through his body to store objects, which was how he got his nickname. He could also reform the ends of his legs, as was the case now. With one of his rear legs, he formed a three digit hand and motioned for Stephen to come over. The major drawback to the Hamalki was a lack of a voice box. To compensate, Box would create a basic voice box by reforming part of his body, then pushing air through it. The result was a whispering sound that always started with a hiss.

"Hhhhcome over here, Steve," Box insisted.

Stephen navigated through the jumbled stacks of crates and gadgets to the back of the room. He motioned to the ceiling. "What's that racket?"

"Hhhhklingon opera,"

Kirk shook his head. "It sounds like someone having their arm ripped off."

"Hhhhi believe it is a love ballad."

"That explains it. The guy probably IS getting his arm ripped off." Box shook his body, producing a tinkling sound similar to a wind chime. It was his way of laughing.

"Hhhhwhat did you break?" He asked, holding out his three-fingered appendage. He continued working on a circuit board in front of him with a white hot connecting tool.

Stephen gave him his comm badge with a smirk. "I didn't break anything. It just started malfunctioning."

Box stopped his current project and switched on the communicator. Instantly, it began popping static and whining. Quickly, Box put it on his workbench and remolded his appendage to look like a large suction, which he used to cover the comm badge. It reduced the sound dramatically. "Hhhhi see what you mean. Ouch." Using another leg, he grabbed a tricorder from the side of his workbench and started analyzing the badge. "Hhhhdid you enjoy your stay with the Cardassians?"

Stephen shot him a sideways glance. "What do YOU think?"

Box chimed again. "Hhhhyou might as well get used to it. Hhhhi would imagine dealing with other worlds' politicians will be hhhhcommonplace for this ship." Box cocked his head. "Hhhhthat is strange."

Stephen tapped his collar. "That's why I have three pips, not four. What's wrong?"

"Hhhhit would seem the speech buffer is full." He removed his suction hand and switched the comm badge off. He then turned it over, grabbed a small screwdriver-like tool from his wallset, and opened the back.

"What do you mean?" Stephen asked curiously. He had seen the inside of a communicator in his basic electronics class, but didn't really pay much attention to it. Now, he was genuinely interested. Funny how adding a few years makes one appreciate things he didn't appreciate before.

"Hhhhwell," Box began, grabbing a magnifying lens and putting it between him and the badge, "as part of the translation program, hhhhit stores part of the initial speech, hhhhin case several words are necessary to provide an hhhhaccurate translation." He pulled another tool, which appeared to have a small hook on the end. He continued making adjustments with the tricorder. "Hhhhyour badge's buffer is locked."

"Can you fix it, or should I just get a new one?"

"Hhhhthis was no accident. Hhhhsomeone transmitted a communication to your badge hhhhand kept the buffer recycling."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Can you retrieve the message?"

Box nodded. "Hhhhi just about have it." He pressed a few more buttons on the tricorder.

The voice was of a female, but low in pitch and accented. "We need help. Coordinates three four eight by two two one. We need help. Coordinates three four eight by two two one. We need..." Box turned off the recording.

Kirk's eyes went wide.

Box turned to focus four eyes on his friend. "Hhhhyou always have the most interesting conversations." 


	17. Chapter 17

"We need your help. Coordinates three four eight by two two one." Stephen stopped the recording. Admiral Picard, Admiral Callis, Captain Bolerov, Commander Richards, and Lieutenant Commander T'Nia were seated around a rectangular table in the conference room of the Warlord, a deck below the bridge. Bolerov was visibly tired and somewhat disengaged from the conversation.

"And you believe it was someone in the council chambers that sent this message to your communications badge?" Picard verified.

Kirk nodded. "Pretty sure, Sir. Box is pretty convinced, anyway."

Picard mused while scratching his beard. "I always wanted to meet a Hamalki. They're quite fascinating."

"I'm sure Box would be happy to meet you, Admiral."

"This just doesn't make sense," Bolerov commented, rubbing his temples. His head was still fuzzy from the vodka he had been drinking. He wasn't expecting to be back on duty so soon. Technically, he should be sleeping right now... and it was showing. He could barely keep himself awake, despite the coffee in front of him.

"Do we know where those coordinates are?" Callis asked.

Richards spoke up. "Yes, Sir... the Orias system."

"Orias," Callis repeated; a hint of recognition on his face. Picard nodded with recognition as well.

"What's with the Orias system?" Kirk finally asked.

"Well..." Callis started, sitting back in his chair, "we don't know much. The Cardassians have been pretty tight-lipped about it. The enhanced Galor class cruiser came from the Orias system. We also found out that whatever they were doing here, it warranted the wrath of the Dominion. They attacked Orias III. The damage was enough that it literally destroyed the planet within days and took both its moons with it... also shifted the orbits of Orias II and IV. The system is completely uninhabitable now."

"Then, who would need help in that system?" Bolerov asked.

Kirk was thinking. "I doubt anyone in that system needs help. The message was sent to me on Cardassia. I'm guessing they need FROM whatever is IN the Orias system."

Picard nodded. "Perhaps our missing cloaked ship is in there."

Bolerov desperately tried to wake up and engage in the conversation. "How far away is the Orias system from here?"

"One hundred, sixteen minutes at warp seven," T'Nia answered.

"We should go there and investigate," Bolerov stated. "I'll make the necessary preparations..."

"I think that would be unwise," Picard interrupted. "First of all, we don't have permission from the Cardassian government to go flying around their space. Second of all, if there is trouble, we need the Warlord here, protecting Cardassia Prime."

"What about the Sting Ray and the Manta Ray?" Kirk offered.

"I'm not familiar with them." Picard answered, his head cocked to one side.

"They're the Marine Corvettes attached to this ship." Richards added. "What about them?"

Kirk made a sly grin. "I suppose now would be a good a time as any for our Marines to perform some engine tests on them, wouldn't you say?"

Richards smiled. "You know, they've needed a good breaking in. We didn't get to do that back in the Sol system."

"This idea has merit," Bolerov noted.

Kirk turned to Bolerov. "We wouldn't need to have them do anything fancy... just warp around to some nearby systems. They certainly wouldn't stay in one area too long. We could make sure they stayed away from any Cardassian restricted areas." He rubbed his hands and turned to Admiral Callis. "Chief Councilman Dogran shouldn't have a problem with that, should he?"

Callis gave a sinister smile. "I don't see why not." He stood to leave. 

"Then, let's proceed with this," Bolerov added and nodded.

"I'll go make the arrangements." Callis finished and gave Picard a grave look.

Picard stood to leave as well. "With your permission, Captain, I would like to contact Starfleet and let them know our situation." He met Callis' gaze with one of his own.

"Absolutely, yes," Bolerov approved.

"Captain, if you don't mind, I'll contact the Marine flight teams and have them prep the ships." Kirk added.

"Please do." Bolerov stood as well. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a plan. Commander Richards, let me know when everything is in place."

Confused that the captain asked him, and not Stephen, he simply answered, "Yes, Sir."

"Excellent. Dismissed, everyone." 


	18. Chapter 18

The turbolift doors opened onto deck six. Commander Kirk stepped out as two Marines ran past him completely naked. The one in behind was weilding a towel like a samurai warrior trying to snap the rear end of the one in front. Loud rock music, from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries was blaring throughout the halls. On the floor, down the hall and by the enlisted mens' quarters, were several marines in their skivvies playing poker. The scene reminded him of his time in boot camp almost twenty years ago. Shaking his head despite the memories, he turned to the left and headed for the officers' quarters. At the end of the hall, he came to the quarters of Colonel Prichard. He pressed the chiming button next to the door.

"It's open," despite the muffled sound of his voice, his southern accent was unmistakeable. The door slid silently open.

The way Colonel Prichard decorated his living space surprised him. It looked more like a situation room than a living area. There was a large table in the middle with a number of chairs scattered about. Two mobile video screens separated the tactical area from a lone, small couch directly next to the wall-mounted display on the other side. The Colonel, dressed down, was putting some unidentifiable objects on a shelf. He quickly put them down, rubbed his right hand on his pant leg, and extended it to Stephen. "Well, well, well... Commander Kirk. What do I owe this pleasure?"

Kirk looked around, noticing he still had several boxes on the floor with unpacked items. "We've been in space for almost two weeks, Colonel. You're still unpacking?"

Prichard shrugged. "Some days, I'm a Colonel. Other days, I'm a babysitter for these kids. I've been too busy getting these kids settled in to worry about my stuff. Now that they're comfy, I can concentrate on myself." There was a sudden thud against the wall near the door. Prichard shook his head with a smile. "I hope you don't mind the ruckass."

Kirk shook his head. "Doesn't bother me, Sir. I went through a lot worse than this during my zero-g training near Jupiter."

Prichard smiled, then got back to business. "I take it you're not here for a social call, Commander." He grabbed a couple more items to place on his shelves. "What's on your mind?"

"We have an issue," Kirk began cautiously. Prichard slowly craned his neck around. "We received a call for help and were given a set of coordinates. They're in the Orias system."

He put his handfulls of knicknacks down, then fully turned around to face Kirk with folded arms. "Go ahead."

"There's been some suspicious behavior going on lately with the Cardassians. Anyway, Warlord can't just head over to the Orias system and check things out... AND since we don't have any shuttlecraft yet, either..."

Prichard finished his thought. "You want one of the 'Vettes to go have a looksee, is that it?"

Kirk nodded. "We already got clearance from the Cardassian government for both 'Vettes to perform some warp tests. We've also got a list of restricted places where they can't go. Orias isn't on it."

Prichard eyed him curiously. "And we ain't got a single idea what's out there, right?"

Kirk shrugged. "It could be nothing."

Prichard considered for a moment, then smiled. Normally, he wouldn't want to waste his people on wild goose chases. However, he needed to get his people engaged in something. He worst fears had started coming true recently. Without something to drive his people, they started losing focus and discipline. Some fun was perfectly fine... it came with the territory. Unfortunately, there was entirely too much idle time. "Okay... I'll have my men check it out. When do we leave?"

"Whenever you're ready," Kirk answered with a smile.

"Okay... tell your captain we'll be ready to launch in thirty."

"Thanks, Colonel. I'll let him know." He headed for the door with Prichard right behind him.

As he headed back to the turbolift, he heard Prichard's voice screaming down the hall, "I need Connor, Thackery and O'Shea in my room on the double! We actually have something to do!" The entire floor cheered. 


	19. Chapter 19

"Commander," Elaine started, holding her earpiece to her ear. "I have confirmation from both the Sting Ray and the Manta Ray. They're ready to depart."

Kirk smiled. "You know, I'd really like to fly one of those one of these days." His mind drifted back to his days as a fighter pilot in the Marines, when the most he had to worry about was keeping the nose up when he landed.

"Me, too," Ensign Bristol added. "Those things look like fun." Tyler was young, and a throttle jockey like Stephen was. Although Stephen never had an urge to try hyperbiking, watching Tyler at a competition a few months ago gave him a bit of an adrenaline rush.

Richards shook his head. "Those things are in there pretty snug, aren't they?" He had watched as the computer systems automatically docked the two Corvettes in spacedock. Even for a computer, a number of minor adjustments had been necessary. Each Corvette had a pair of warp nacells that folded down and retracted underneath the rear of the ship. Using thrusters, they gently glided into a hole in the top back of the Warlord's superstructure that was just barely bigger than the ship itself. It made Kenyon slightly nervous just watching.

"Yeah, but leaving's the easy part," Kirk replied. "Once the crew's aboard, we raise the bay doors, then drop the force field around the opening. The decompression shoves them out nice and easy. Landing's the hard part."

"I thought the docking computer landed them," Elaine asked, truly curious. She hadn't had a chance to go back and visit with the Marines. She had, as everyone had, heard stories of how Marines behaved. The stories reminded her of her friends back on Earth... friends part of her wanted to forget, but another part missed them dearly. She had been struggling for the past couple of weeks with the notion that she needed to 'grow up'. After all, she was only two months away from her twenty-ninth birthday. Still, to her, there was an inherent admission of defeat if considered leaving her partying days behind her. Perhaps spending time with the Marines would be a good mental compromise.

"Well, yeah... technically," Kirk admitted. He had been a Marine long enough to know how things worked. "But neither of those pilots will ever use it." He pointed to the forward viewscreen, which was currently observing the closed, top/aft docking bays on Warlord's back. "Lieutenant Davies, clear them."

"Aye, aye, Sir." She confirmed with a smile. Apparently, the commander had some experience with Marines, possibly this group. She'd have to ask him about that, eventually... possibly when she pressed him on those ship scans she took back on Romulus. She had completely forgotten about that. He owed her an explanation, after all. The thought made her grin. Shaking the thought from her mind, she turned back to her panel. "Sting Ray, Manta Ray, you are cleared for departure."

Everyone stared at the viewscreen. Silently, the two garage door-looking portals opened as red bars of light outlining the doors, began flashing. Several seconds later, with the doors fully hidden, a blast of white smoke shot from each door. Barely noticable was a corresponding shake of the Warlord with the expulsion of air from the bays. Amidst the smoke came the two Corvettes. They appeared similar to Runabouts, a standard long-range shuttle Starfleet uses, except wider and much longer. The insides were completely modular and could be configured to seat up to forty human sized people each for short periods, or up to twenty for a longer term stay; with living and sleeping quarters. The white, rectangular tube shaped ships slowly maneuvered their way around so they were facing behind the Warlord. From the aft sections, two oval, blue colored warp nacells stretched outwards. When they reached their full distance, they turned themselves upwards to an angle and began to glow brightly.

Commander Kirk's comm badge popped. "Commander, this is Colonel Prichard, over."

Kirk tapped the repaired communicator, back attached to his chest. "Go ahead, Colonel."

"The 'Vettes are launched. I'll take it from here." The southern drawn voice stated.

"Gotcha. We're transferring the communications now. Kirk out." He tapped his badge again and turned to Elaine.

"Sir?" She questioned.

Kirk nodded. "I need you to transfer the Corvette's communications to the SitCon room on deck six."

"Aye, Sir," she answered, the curious look still on her face. Obediently, she complied.

"The Marines are only using the Warlord as a base of operations. They don't answer to us, Lieutenant," he explained thoughtfully. He pointed to the viewscreen as the two vessels sped off. "Those two ships are under his command. If they need our help, they'll ask."

"Ah," she answered, somewhat understanding. This was going to be a unique relationship, she thought.

In a pair of white flashes, the two Corvettes sailed off into warp speed and out of sight.

"Here's hoping that call for help was just a prank," Kirk said aloud. 


	20. Chapter 20

Once the door slid shut behind him, the room was dark. Only the light of a small communications pad and the gap at the bottom of the door providing any illumination. Before the door closed, he could clearly make out three figures shrouded in hooded cloaks. In the dim light, he could make out their silhouettes. The one in the middle was clearly shorter than the two that flanked him. The anonymity, of course, was for the benefit of anyone else happening upon the room. He KNEW who they were. "You summoned me?" The Cardassian asked nervously.

The figure in the middle held up the communications pad. On it was a distant picture of the USS Warlord. Just above it were even smaller images of smaller vessels. "We have a problem, Councilman Tegril." The melodic male's voice complained. "Do you see the ships just above the Federation ship?"

Ross Tegril squinted to see. The pad itself was small; the image even smaller. However, he could make them out. They were quite small in comparison to the mammoth starship currently in orbit. "Yes, I do," he eventually answered.

"I thought we had an understanding that the Federation was to stay put." Despite the smooth sound to his voice, he was clearly agitated.

"It wasn't me!" Tegril answered defensively. "Dogran gave them permission to do some warp tests on the ships."

"Calm yourself," the voice insisted. Tegril took several deep breaths. "Do you know where they're heading?" the voice asked calmly.

"I believe they were heading to the Sheva system. I don't know if they're going anywhere else. Dogran gave them a list of restricted places not to go." He was desperately hoping he wouldn't have to answer any more questions.

"Do you know if the Orias system was among the list of restricted areas?" He asked melodically.

That was the one question he hoped he wouldn't have to answer. "It was not," he admitted sheepishly.

"That is most regrettable," the figure concluded. He tapped his fingers along the communications pad for several minutes, while Ross Tegril waited nervously. Sweat ran down the side of his face. "If they discover our operation... " His demeanor changed to become considerably more authoritative. The figure obviously turned his head to one of his associates. "Have our people contact the base. Tell them to keep all the ships but one scout hidden. If the Federation are truly testing their warp systems, which I doubt, then they may not even come. If they do, don't give away our position unless they get too close. If they do decide to start snooping around, destroy them. Put a jamming field around the area, too. Have our base contact us if they engage the Federation."

"What about me?" Tegril asked. He was desperatly hoping he would simply be dismissed. He just wanted to hide.

"I'm afraid Chief Councilman Dogran needs to be removed from office. We need to discourage people from pursuing relations with the Federation." That statement left a hard lump in Tegril's throat. "I will contact you later this afternoon with a time and place for you to meet Dogran alone. We'll have an ambush waiting. Dismissed." 


	21. Chapter 21

"Captain's log, stardate: 57025.3, Commander Kirk reporting. These screwed up Cardassian days area really messing with me. Anyway, the Corvettes have been gone for almost three hours. Colonel Prichard informed us they would be arriving in the Orias sysetm within the hour. Apparently, Dogran was assassinated last night. Apparently, now the Detapa Council wants time to rethink joining the Federation. So, the peace delegation just beamed down to Cardassia to talk to the new Chief Councilman, Ross Tegril. Personally, I think this whole thing stinks."

The Sting Ray and the Manta Ray came out of warp not far from a large ice rock. Lieutenant Gannon, commander of the Sting Ray, looked out the front window of his Corvette. He hadn't seen much experience, having just graduated officer's training school less than a year ago. Still, he graduated at the top of his class. The bridge of the Sting Ray was rather cramped. He was both the pilot and the commander; seated at the helm on the right side. To his left was his navigator and tacticle officer. Just behind him sat his communications and sensor officer. Surrounding them; above, in front, and to all sides, were all manner of control panels, readouts, and computer panels. The windows, both the front and the sides, were relatively small. Gannon leaned back towards his communications officer. "Do we still have an open channel to the Manta Ray?"

The young corporal obeyed and nodded. "Thanks." He leaned back forward and spoke into the speaker in front of him. "Sting Ray to Manta Ray... Sting Ray to Manta Ray, over."

The female voice of Lieutenant Featherly, echoed back over the speaker. "Manta Ray, this is Featherly, over."

"Colonel?" Gannon questioned to the speaker.

Moments, later, the southern accented voice of Colonel Prichard came through. "What is it, Gannon?"

"We're near Orias V. If there is something out here, it's probably near Orias II or III. There's a lot of debris over there. That'll make sensor readings hard." 

"Understood," Prichard replied. "Move at three-quarters impulse power towards what's left of Orias III. Weatherly, stay on Gannon's wing and keep the channel open, over."

"Roger that, over." 

"Understood, over." Smoothly, the Manta Ray slid up beside the Sting Ray as the two ships accelerated.

The two ships continued sailing towards the inner system for another thirty minutes, which was strewn with asteroids, planetoids and debris from the explosion of Orias III and the resulting destruction of Orias IV as a result. As they neared the asteroid belt, the speaker began to fade into static.

"Manta Ray," Gannon began, "Manta Ray, this is Sting Ray, over." For a moment, Grace Featherly's voice could barely be heard over the static. Then, it was gone entirely. "Gannon to Colonel Prichard. Colonel, are you there?" Again, there was only static. Gannon leaned back again. "Corporal, are the asteroids causing this?"

The system engineer flew through controls and computer screens. In the end, he could only shrug. "I don't think so, but I can't be sure."

Gannon scratched his head for a moment, then shook his head. "I think we're being jammed. Get the limpet speaker ready. I'm moving up along side the Manta Ray." With a few presses of buttons, Gannon brought the Sting Ray to a stop, then eased the Sting Ray sideways with the maneuvering thrusters until he was less than a hundred meters from the Manta Ray. Through the starboard window, he could see her questioning face through her port window. He held up his pointer finger to suggest 'one minute'. She nodded. "Okay, fire away," Gannon ordered.

A small panel on the bottom of the Sting Ray opened, and a small, rotating platform quickly slid down. It spun around to point a tube at the Manta Ray. Silently, a cabled projectile fired from the tube and impacted the port hull of the Manta Ray just under the port window. The cable stretched taught as a panel under the Manta Ray followed the same pattern. Within several seconds, a cabled projectile was fired at the Sting Ray. It impacted the starboard side of the Sting Ray with a thud. Gannon then pointed to his communications officer. He spoke into his speaker. "Featherly, do you hear me?"

A voice echoed throughout the bridge wall. "Yes, Sir. I hear you loud and clear."

Gannon nodded. This was certainly a primitive form of communication, but when faced with advances in technology, sometimes the best step forward was a step back. By applying old-style analog audio signals directly into the hull of a nearby object of vessel, you can turn the metal into a speaker. "Look this interference may be caused by the asteroids and it may not. Let's keep looking, but keep a sharp eye out. The first sign of danger, you bug out and get help. I'll keep them busy."

Featherly shook her head. "No way, Sir. I'm not leaving you behind. We fight..."

"Lieutenant, I'm the mission commander here." He interrupted. "That's a direct order. You bug out. Got it?"

She paused long and hard. They had been friends all through basic training, officer's training, and even flight training. She was engaged to his best friend. The thought of leaving him to an enemy that would, most likely, have him completely outmatched made her sick. Her expression became resolute. She was a Marine... before a fiancee, before a friend... she was a soldier. And she had been given an order by her commanding officer. "Yes, Sir." She answered.

"Good," he nodded. "Detatch the limpet and let's go. Look sharp." He nodded to his communications tech. With a single button press, the speaker's magnetism was cut. The cable quickly retracted the speaker back to its platform, which then retracted back into the ship. The speaker attached to the Sting Ray followed suit.

Following his lead, the two Corvettes headed towards what was left of Orias III. 


	22. Chapter 22

Stephen looked longingly at the chronometer on the wall above the sensor station. He had another four hours before his shift ended. The Corvettes had been gone for almost four hours and the peace delegation had been in 'animated' discussions for almost an hour. On the bridge of the Warlord, all was eerily silent as they slowly orbited Cardassia Prime. Somehow, to Stephen, it was like a prolonged version of the calm just before a tornado hits. Everyone waited for the 'other shoe' to drop. It reminded him of waiting for the Rapier to attack months ago. That memory reminded him of a final task yet to be completed on the Warlord. He tapped his comm badge. "Kirk to engineering."

A voice spoke through his badge. "Engineering, Kelly here."

"Did we ever get those insulation pieces for the cannons installed?" That represented the last chink in their armor... the last piece that kept Warlord from being one hundred percent functional. Without the proper insulation, the cannons could only be fired at fifty percent power... and they'd have to wait almost an hour before being able to fire them again.

"Afraid not, Commander," Kelly replied. The disappointment was evident in his voice. "It was supposed to be installed after the trip to Romulus. We were called away to Cardassia before they could install it. We'll get it when we get back, though."

Kirk nodded. That wouldn't help them here... if something erupted. Hopefully, the secondary weapons would suffice, if they were needed. "Okay, thanks for the update. Sorry to bother you."

"No worries, Commander," the aussie voice replied. "Everything's pretty quiet down here. A little action would do us good." He sounded playful.

Kirk chuckled somewhat nervously as did a few others on the bridge. "Be careful what you wish for, Lieutenant. Kirk out."

Kirk's comment voiced what everyone else had been thinking. Without saying a word, everyone somehow knew something was stirring. Too many things didn't make sense; not the least of which was a phantom cloaked ship that hadn't come into view again despite several more tachyon bursts, including one performed just a few minutes ago by Commander Richards, who was nervously drumming his fingers against his console.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by a voice coming over the bridge speaker. "Colonel Prichard to bridge," the southern voice spoke. Although barely more than conversational in volume, something was wrong.

Kirk looked up at the speaker. "This is Commander Kirk, Colonel. What's up?"

"I lost contact with the 'Vettes a few minutes ago and I can't re-establish it. They had just gone into the Orias system." Prichard said calmly.

Kirk spun around in his seat and snapped his fingers then pointed at Elaine. She spun around to her console and began pressing buttons. "There's nothing on their comm channel... just static."

"It's either because of the debris there or because someone's jamming them." Prichard's voice stated.

"Elaine, what have you..." Kirk was stopped short by Lieutenant Davies' raised pointer finger asking for a moment. With her other hand, she pressed her earpiece deeper into her ear. Almost like playing an antique piano, Elaine's hands glided over her console. An oscilating image appeared on a screen in front of her. She pressed several buttons to the left of the screen, which changed the wildly fluctuating line to a single, vibrating, flowing curve.

"Commander," she said quickly, "this isn't natural interference. The signal's being jammed at the source."

"Commander, I need..." Prichard began.

Kirk interrupted him. "I'm one step ahead of you, Colonel." He pressed his comm badge. "Bridge to Captain Bolerov." There was several moments of silence. "Commander Kirk to Captain Bolerov." He spoke a little more urgently. "Captain Bolerov, please report to the bridge." He sounded even more urgent.

After several more seconds, Kirk's comm badge popped. The first sound was a heavy sigh. "What is it, Commander?" Andrei's rough, gravelly voice sounded even more so. He sounded breathless and half asleep.

Hiding his concern for the captain, Kirk continued. "Captain, we've lost contact with both Marine ships. We're pretty sure, " Kirk turned to get a facial confirmation from Lieutenant Davies, who nodded, "their signal is being jammed. What do you..."

Bolerov interrupted, annoyed. "Go get them, Commander. You didn't need me for that."

"But, Captain," Kirk continued, "the peace delegation is still down on the planet. What should I tell them?"

"I don't care. Find out what they want. I'll be on the bridge in... good grief... four hours. Don't bother me until then, or if we go to war. Bolerov out."

Stephen shot Tony a concerned look, who reciprocated by shrugging his shoulders. "Colonel, we're heading for the Orias system in just a few moments..."

"I heard, Commander," Prichard interrupted. "I'm already on my way to the bridge. I'll be there in just a few minutes. Prichard out." The overhead speaker popped off.

Kirk stood up from his seat and headed over to the navigation console. "Ensign Bristol, set a course for the Orias system, maximum warp."

Intensely, Tyler turned back to his console. "Aye, aye, Sir." With a few button strokes, he began searching through the Cardassian starcharts to find the Orias system.

Kirk tapped his comm badge. "Warlord to Admiral Picard."

Several moments later, the familiar french/english accented voice of Admiral Picard popped back. "What is it, Commander?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Kirk started quickly, "we've lost contact with the Marine ships. Captain Bolerov ordered us to break orbit and go after them. Do you want us to beam you up?"

A moment of consideration passed before Picard answered. "I don't think that would be wise. The discussions aren't going well at all. To leave now would probably cause a complete collapse. I shall tell Chief Councilman Tegril what's going on, however. He should be able to keep what's left of the Cardassian Navy from interfering." His voice sounded concerned, but confident.

"Thank you, Admiral," Kirk said sincerely. He looked at Tyler, who was pressing in coordinates. "How long will it take, Ensign?"

Ensign Bristol turned back around to face Kirk. "At warp nine point four, it'll take about thirty-two minutes, Sir."

Kirk nodded. "Admiral? We should be back in just over an hour."

Picard's voice was still calm. "I think we can fend for ourselves until then. Good luck, Commander. Picard out."

"Coordinates laid in, Commander," Bristol said professionally.

Kirk pointed at the screen. "Break orbit, secure our route and engage." He sat back down in the captain's seat. The star patterns changed as the panoramic view of Cardassia Prime disappeared to the left of the screen. Within seconds, the Warlord was speeding off to the Orias system. 


	23. Chapter 23

The Great Hall of the Detapa Council was a cacaphonous mess, despite only fifty of the hundreds of available seats were full. Sitting quietly, at one of the arced tables at the center of the room, were the five peace delegates from the Federation. In the center of the room, atop a raised platform, was Chief Councilman Ross Tegril. As had been the case several times already, he was banging his gavel in yet another attempt to restore order. Although relatively few knew his true reasons for remaining out of the Federation, there were enough other council members who opposed joining for other reasons that he could keep his knowledge to himself. That was what he was counting on... what his contact was counting on. Without Dogran, there were enough dissenting opinions to keep the Federation out.

Admiral Picard and Doctor McIntyre's arguements, however, had started turning the tide back to joining. Part of him wished he had never allowed them to come back down. Gerak had insisted, however. As Ross attempted to make out the animated discussion going on between the representatives of the Hejod and Culat districts, his communicator went off. Enjoying the brief privacy the noise was providing, he removed it from his pocket. It was HIM. The image made him shudder. How he wished they hadn't decided to seek refuge in his district on Cardassia IV. Whispering loudly, he begged, "What can you possibly want with me now?"

Beneath the hood, Ross could still see the glaring, purple eyes. "Now, of all times, would be the worst time to be flippant. The Federation ship just left orbit."

"I know," Ross pleaded, "Picard told me. Their other ships were in some kind of trouble."

"Trouble we created," the hooded contact added. "Our people will keep the Federation ships busy. Our goal isn't their destruction... yet. Our goal is an independent Cardassia. It would seem you're letting things get out of hand."

Ross could see where this was going. It was too soon... too soon. He just needed more time. "No, no... everyone is arguing. Just give it some time..."

"No more time!" the contact urged. "We must take advantage of the moment. Fortunately, we planned for this sitation."

No, they couldn't show themselves. Ross would be instantly marked as a traitor. They'd never listen to him. "Please, don't... there are so many people here. Someone will get hurt." He was desperately clinging onto anything that would buy him some time.

"People have already 'gotten hurt', Tegril," the voice said urgently. "Such is the inevitable cost of revolution. You might want to get behind your desk." The image faded from his communicator.

Tegril was about to take his contact's advice when he saw Admiral Picard approaching him. Oh, no, he thought. If Picard was injured or killed... how had he gotten himself into this? He should have announced their presence as soon as they made themselves known. Now... it was too late. Their promises of a strong, independent Cardassian Union were empty. This was all he had left. "Admiral, get down!" Ross yelled as the admiral approached. Tegril suddenly ducked under his desk.

Confused, Picard bent down as several sparks of silver and red appeared all over the large room. The glows briefly intensified, then began to fade. To the shock of many in the room, when the flashes faded, they were replaced by familiar images of Jem'Hadar soldiers. There were at least thirty of them, all brandishing some form of rifle. Panic overcame several of the people in the room as surprised members of the Cardassian guard began firing at their enemy. Green and purple streams of energy flew across the large expanse of the Great Hall. Although a Cardassian weapons had successfully found a target, the Jem'Hadar were deathly accurate with their weapons. In less than a minute, it was over.

Screaming filled the room as councilmembers, assistants, and the remaining guards took cover. Methodically, the Jem'Hadar began turning over tables and pushing occupants towards the center of the room. Picard stared incredulously at Tegril as he slowly stood up from behind his desk. Ross had a look of utter humiliation as he hung his head.

"Get up!" a Jem'Hadar soldier commanded of Admiral Picard. As he stood, he saw the rest of his peace delegation rounded up and brought forward. "Take off your communicators!" he ordered of the delegation. Silently, they complied. "Throw them on the floor!" Again, they complied. "Now, smash them." he ordered with an evil grin across his ashen colored face. As they stomped their feet, the communicators were smashed. With a look of calm resolution, Picard studied the soldiers around them, learning their numbers, watching as the ketracel-white flowed from tubes beside their necks.

His watchful eyes finally rested on a cloaked individual standing next to Ross Tegril. This was impossible, Picard thought. The Dominion had been driven back through the wormhole. A treaty had been signed... and agreement reached. This constitued a breach of that treaty. He knew if this got back to Starfleet, their reaction would be... rash. 

As the screaming finally faded, the seventy-two people were brought roughly to the lower levels of the room. The cloaked individual began to speak. The melodic, charismatic nature of his voice gave his identity away immediately to the delegation. "Noble Cardassians," he began, his arms raised. "Today you are granted freedom from the yoke of the Federation. Make no mistake; once a part of their collage, you would lose your individual identities as the vulcans did. You would lose your spirit, as the klingons did. Today," as he continued, he removed the hood from his cloak. His face was pale and elongated. His earlobes extended from the crown of his head all the way to his jawline. His almost hypnotic eyes were purple. He was a vorta; the mouth of the Founders and negotiators of the Dominion. "today I am pleased to announce that the Dominion has accepted you back. I am Gelnon, your liason to the Dominion and I promise you... from this day forward..." he looked intensely at Jean Luc Picard as he continued, "we aren't going anywhere." 


	24. Chapter 24

Warlord raced through the heavens as fast as her computer systems would allow. Apprehension filled the bridge. Seated next to Commander Kirk was Colonel Prichard, in the guest chair, where Doctor Rass would normally sit. "What's our ETA now, Bristol?" Kirk asked. He wanted to smack himself. He had just asked that question not two minutes earlier.

Tyler did his best to not look annoyed, but this was the fourth time in less than ten minutes the commander had asked. Tyler looked at his panel more out of habit than to glean information. He already knew the count. "We're twenty minutes from the Orias system, Sir." He turned back to his panel.

"Sorry," Kirk replied sheepishly.

"Commander, I have a contact dead ahead," Richards announced. "It's on an intercept course. It'll be on us in less than five minutes."

"Is it one of the Corvettes?" Kirk asked. The command to go to red alert was on his lips, but he held back.

"Hang on," Richards said, analyzing the data being fed to him. "Yes... it's the Manta Ray."

Kirk looked over his shoulder towards Elaine. "Hail them."

After making a number of attempts, she finally put noise on the overhead speaker. "Sorry, Sir. I thought I had the pilot's voice for a moment, but they must still be stuck in the jamming field."

"Keep on it." Kirk ordered. "The field can't be that big."

Just then, the static began to fade. A woman's voice penetrated the noise. "...an you... me? This... eather... Ray."

Kirk stood up. Prichard, normally calm under pressure, looked apprehensive as well. "This is Commander Kirk of the USS Warlord. What's your status?"

"...lord? Thank god. In... system... jammed but Lieut... then... under attack." came the intermittant reply.

As if he could actually see something in the forward viewscreen, Kirk squinted his eyes. "Did you say you came under attack? Who attacked you?" He instinctively raised his voice.

As if providence was commanding the communications, the static cleared instantly. "We were attacked by a Jem'Hadar battlecruiser!" She replied frantically.

The entire bridge was stunned. Kirk sank back into his chair and stared blankly at the screen. Prichard, noticing the lack of response by the bridge crew, stood himself. "Featherly, this is Colonel Prichard. Where's the Sting Ray?"

"Sir, Lieutenant Gannon stayed behind to engage the battlecruiser so we could escape. He's all alone! We have to get them!"

Prichard turned to the seated commander, who was shaking the shock off his consciousness. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. We'll get them back. Won't we, Commander?" Prichard insisted.

Recovering from his numbness, Kirk looked back at Prichard, a determined look on his face. He stood resolute in front of the captain's chair. "Battlestations!" Alarms sounded as the bridge went to an eerie red color. As if turning on a light, the bridge crew jumped to action. Kirk looked back up at the overhead speaker. "Manta Ray, stay where you are. As we pass, fall in behind us."

Showing a bit more confidence in what he saw, Colonel Prichard sat back down.

Kirk tapped his comm badge. Bolerov may not have wanted to be interrupted, but he needed to be on the bridge. Here's hoping he was lucid. "Bridge to Bolerov, come in." There were several seconds of pause as everyone listened for a response. "Captain Bolerov, this is Commander Kirk. We have an emergency."

A groggy, Russian voice finally answered. "Why are we at red alert?"

"Captain," Kirk started quickly, "the Corvettes came under attack by a Jem'Hadar warship."

"I thought we lost contact..." The captain asked semiconsciously.

"Captain," Kirk was trying not to be impatient, "the Manta Ray escaped. We intercepted them en route to the Orias system. We're about nine minutes out. Sir, the Sting Ray is still out there." Nervously, Stephen tapped his foot.

There were several more seconds of quiet before Bolerov spoke again. "Did you say there was a Jem'Hadar ship involved in this?"

"Yes, Sir." Kirk's voice raised, "The Marine ships encountered it while they were investigating the Orias system. According to the pilot of the Manta Ray, they were attacked."

"And we're heading to the Orias system, right?"

For some reason, Kirk didn't dare look at anyone or anything but the viewscreen. He felt... almost... embarassed by this. It wasn't just because of the bridge crew. It was because Prichard was there. There had always been an almost playful animosity between the Marines and other Starfleet personnel. To the Marines, everyone else was, well, a step down... an 'almost' military operation. In the back of his mind, Stephen had wanted to demonstrate that the Warlord was an exception. Bolerov certainly wasn't helping. "Yes, Sir... we are... under your orders."

"Yes, yes," Bolerov replied curtly. With a sigh, he added, "I'll be right there."

Somehow, that statement didn't fill Stephen with much confidence. 


	25. Chapter 25

The klaxons were ringing on the bridge of the Vigilant. The crew was bathed in the flashing red lights overhead. In front of them, the viewscreen was littered with Jem'Hadar, Cardassian, Federation, and Klingon ships. Bolerov clapped his hands together and smiled to his first officer. "It looks like a beautiful day for a victory, eh, Mister Keating?"

Commander Nicholas Keating stared incredulously at the chaos on the viewscreen and shook his head with a smile. "If you say so, Sir."

Lieutenant Commander O'Neill turned his head back to the captain. "Captain, the Hood is accelerating."

"Match speed and course, Aaron." Bolerov stated matter-of-factly. "Whatever they do, we do." He turned to Lieutenant Iieria. "Whatever they fire at, we fire at." Iieria nodded and turned back to her weapons console. Bolerov leaned forward. "From this moment on, the Hood, the Repulse, and the Vigilant are all one machine." He looked briefly at the viewscreen before issuing one more order. "Mr. O'Neill, remember to stay low and back off the Hood's port side. That way, she'll have a clear shot at anything we pass."

"Aye, aye, Captain," O'Neill replied without even turning around.

"Captain Bolerov, this is Commander Kirk. We have an emergency."

The voice seemed somehow disjoined from his dream. Sleepily, Bolerov opened one eye to see his room flashing in red light. The klaxons he heard in his dream seemed to have some odd residual sound in this semi-conscious reality. It took him several moments to realize a red alert. His first sensation was of a dull, throbbing pain in his head. His second sensation was of a kink in his neck. Apparently, he had fallen asleep on his chair again. Dropping the empty vodka bottle and rubbing his neck, he tapped his comm badge. "Why are we at red alert?

"Captain," Bolerov finally recognized the voice as Commander Kirk's, "the Corvettes came under attack by a Jem'Hadar warship."

The Corvettes, he wondered. When last he remembered, they were still looking for them. "I thought we lost contact..." The pain in his head fought with his ability to fashion complete thoughts.

"Captain, the Manta Ray escaped. We intercepted them en route to the Orias system. We're about nine minutes out. Sir, the Sting Ray is still out there."

Ah... they found the Corvettes after all, he thought. Bolerov was about to compliment the whole group on a recovery job well done, when a previously spoken word jumped back into his mind. "Did you say there was a Jem'Hadar ship involved in this?"

"Yes, Sir." Kirk's voice sounded a bit annoyed. "The Marine ships encountered it while they were investigating the Orias system. According to the pilot of the Manta Ray, they were attacked." Bolerov felt a bit put off by Stephen's attitude. After all, Andrei had been off duty and asleep for several hours after pulling a double shift. He had the right to be a little disoriented. "And we're heading to the Orias system, right?"

"Yes, Sir... we are... under your orders." Kirk sounded downright snippy with that last answer.

"Yes, yes," of course he remembered that was his order... didn't he? His memory was still a bit fuzzy, but he thought he remembered giving the order. No matter... there was no excuse for a subbordinate officer to get mouthy with the captain. He'd have to have a talk with him once this was over. With a sigh, he added, "I'll be right there." Staggering out of his chair, he continued to rub his neck while he searched for his boots. 


	26. Chapter 26

Gannon watched in horror as the image of a giant, gray bat emerged from the top of the largest piece of Orias III. The tips of its wings glowed with a white light and purple lights dotted the tops and bottoms of the wings. It's front reminded him more of a giant insect with pincers for a mouth. He recognized it immediately.. a Jem'Hadar battle cruiser. Still, he had a tough time believing what he was seeing. It wasn't until it had come completely over the top and fired a purple beam of energy at the Manta Ray that he realized how real it was.

"Oh, my god!" He screamed. He quickly cut the control stick to the right, which turned the Sting Ray in between the cruiser and the Manta Ray. Another purple polaron beam ripped across his ships bow, causing the entire ship to shake. Alarms sounded as the tactical specialist attempted to discern the damage. Gannon kicked the speed to three quarters impulse as he watched the Manta Ray veer directly down. He headed for a nearby asteroid. "Report!" he screamed at the person to his left.

"Shields down to thirty percent, inertial dampeners offline and we've lost a secondary power coupling. I wouldn't recommend getting hit again, Sir." He answered sarcastically.

Gannon shot him a quick look. "I'll keep that in mind. How's the Manta?"

A few quick taps of his console gave him the answer. "Must have been a near miss, Sir. Their shields are at forty-six percent. I don't see any other damage than that."

Gannon nodded as he rounded the asteroid in front of him. He powered down his sublight engines to hide behind the asteroid. "Is the Manta Ray making a break for it?"

The specialist nodded, but looked worried. "Yes, Sir... but the cruiser is pursuing."

"Great," he countered angrilly as he powered the engines back up. "Fire all weapons on that cruiser as soon as you've got a solution."

"Sir?" the tactical specialist queried. He had thought they had gotten away cleanly.

"We need to buy them some time... make them chase us." The Sting Ray rounded the asteroid and slid into a small clearing. Ahead of them, they could see the Manta Ray swooping from asteroid to asteroid as the giant cruiser maneuvered through the rocks to get a clear shot. It expended several shots of their weapons destroying large debris that impeded its progress. As the Sting Ray skirted around another asteroid, they came up underneath the cruier. "Fire!" Gannon yelled.

The weapons locked with a high-pitched beep. Two, small, white, fast-moving twinkles of light sped towards the belly of the cruiser. The torpedoes struck hard against the deflector shields, making them glow. That was followed by six, quick pulses of red light from their pulse phasers. As if the ship itself appeared annoyed, it came to a stop and began to pitch itself upwards to bring its rear weapons to bear on the small Corvette. Recognizing the move, Gannon quickly increased speed and ducked behind another asteroid and reduced speed. "Damage?" He asked, knowing it would be minimal.

"Their shields are down to ninty-four percent," the specialist answered defeatedly.

Gannon shrugged. "This may take awhile."

"We only have two more torpedoes, Sir."

"Then... this may take a long while."

The specialist panicked. "Sir! They're targeting the asteroid!"

"Whoa!" Gannon yelled, kicking up the speed again. "Time to find a new home." The Sting Ray sped away as the Jem'Hadar cruiser fired at the asteroid, pulvarizing it with a single shot. The concussion rocked the Corvette as it slid around another asteroid.

"Now they're targeting this one!" the specialist panicked.

"Calm down!" Gannon yelled. "These guys just don't play fair." He turned the Corvette downwards as the asteroid exploded behind them, rocking the ship again. This time, however, another purple beam rocketed past their front window, impacting a large rock just above them, shattering it. The explosion sent two large chunks into their direction, causing Gannon to hit the side thrusters to avoid one rock and slide around the second rock. "We need to find a rock they can't shoot," he said rhetorically as he looked around. "What's the status of the Manta Ray?"

The specialist looked at his console and shook his head. "I can't see it any more, but the cruiser is still firing in their general direction."

"Okay... we need to become more of a pain in the neck. Power up the phasers and torpedoes again." He powered up his engines as yet another burst of purple energy destroyed the asteriod they were hiding behind. "I'm heading for that big rock over there," he said pointing upwards and to his right. "When we swing around, lock and fire really quick. We won't have much time."

Elegantly, the sleek Corvette bobbed and weaved its way through the asteroid field towards a rock almost the same size as the cruiser. Slowly, firing several different directions at once, it attempted to fire at the fleeing Manta Ray while clearing a path to the Sting Ray and firing in the Sting Ray's direction. As the Sting Ray finally rounded the destination Gannon was hoping for, he brought the ship to an emergency stop while spining it completely around with maneuvering thrusters. Without the dampeners, it was a bumpy ride that slammed the three person crew hard to the right. "Get ready," he said. With a pound against the maneuvering controls, the ship suddenly lurched hard to port, barely clearing the planetoid they were behind. The Jem'Hadar cruiser was approaching the planetoid slowly, coming upwards. They had one more clear shot at its belly. "Fire!"

Torpedoes and pulse phasers streaked from the underside and wings of the Corvette, squarely impacting the underside of the ship. Even as the weapons launched, Lieutenant Gannon was reversing the engines to duck back behind the planetoid. Two purple polaron beams shot past the front of the ship; the second impacted the side of the planetoid sending debris everywhere.

"Nice hit," Gannon commented. His shipmate smiled weakly knowing their ship would never be able to bring down a ship this size.

"Their shields are down to eighty-eight percent," he offered.

"Not bad," Gannon replied, nodding. "Are they firing behind them any more?"

The corporal looked out the top window as Gannon maneuvered the Sting Ray under the planetoid further. "Doesn't look like it,"

"Well, that means either the Manta Ray was destroyed, or they got away," he said almost to himself. "Let's hope for the latter." He took a deep breath as he moved his ship around the planetoid, keeping it between them and the cruiser. "In the meantime, load the phasers again. I might be able to get you a couple more shots."

"You're kidding, right?" the specialist asked incredulously.

Gannon shrugged. "Hey, stranger things have happened." He was desperately hoping the Manta Ray had gotten away safely and was bringing what the Marines had nicknamed "Big Daddy." 


	27. Chapter 27

The peace delegation, as well as thirty-two Cardassian politicians and military, were ushered from the Great Hall to the government building next door with their hands on their heads. A squad of thirty Jem'Hadar surrounded them. Gelnon walked up front with the Cardassian politicians who had bowed in loyalty to the Dominion, with Tegril at the lead. Stunned Cardassian citizens, seeing their leaders walking willingly with the Dominion, only stared. 

"Do you know why they are moving us?" Picard asked Councilman Gerak, who was walking next to him.

Gerak thought a moment. He had spent several years as a tailor on Deep Space Nine. The absence had blurred his memory somewhat. Eventually, he replied, "If I remember correctly, the government building has its own power supply and a shielding system."

"It does, indeed," Gelnon confirmed, turning around with a knowing smile. He tugged on his elongated earlobes. "It's the hearing. I can't help but eavesdrop." He allowed his pace to slow until Picard and Gerak had caught up with him. "It also has the added benefit of having a large audience chambed several levels below ground. I assure you, everyone will be quite safe...even if a foolish rescue operation is mounted." Gerak stared at him disgustedly, but surprisingly, said nothing.

The group walked into the government building, an immense structure made of an obsidian like material and a dark red, rough hewn stone. "Chief Councilman Tegril," Gelnon announced, "if you'd please lead us down below. Our guests will be staying in the main audience chamber."

Although Ross turned his head slightly, he refused to look up. "I understand," he said quietly. Through the gathering of Cardassians in the building, Ross and the dozen other collaborating councilmembers lead the Jem'Hadar and their prisoners to a large flight of stairs.

Picard leaned closer towards Gelnon, drawing the attention of two Jem'Hadar soldiers, who raised their weapons. "You realize your presence here violates our treaty."

"I believe, in the end, the Founders will reward my diligence." He replied with a smile. "After all, it was their idea to conquer this area of space."

"They were defeated, Gelnon," Picard countered cautiously, "and their ideas were defeated with them."

"They may have tasted temporary defeat, Admiral," he continued with a distant smile, "but it wasn't at your hand, was it? It was the result of the plague against our Founders."

"The Dominion had lost. The resistance had broken the Dominion's hold on Cardassia Prime, the Breen weapon was no longer effective, reinforcements had been cut off. You had lost. You stand to gain nothing by being here."

"Well, truth be told, Admiral, our presence here isn't entirely by choice." The group walked down several flights of stairs until they were four levels under the main floor. "During the fight for Cardassia Prime, my cruiser was damaged. The warp drive overloaded as we reached the Orias system. Believe it or not, I had planned to transfer myself and my crew to another ship and leave. That is, until I found out our Founder had allowed herself to be captured by the Federation. Instead, we set up a base of operations using what was left of the Tal'Shiar and Obsidian Order remains."

"Tal'Shiar? Obsidian Order?" Admiral Picard had heard unofficial reports of some kind of joint mission, but no details.

Gelnon narrowed his purple eyes. "Don't play innocent with me, Picard. It was a widely publicized operation, once it failed. They joined forces to launch a pre-emptive strike mission against the Founders' homeworld. It was, I'm afraid, a disastrous failure for them. It did, however, enlighten us to certain technologies the alpha quadrant possessed. I'm happy to say we've been able to put some of them to good use." He smiled evilly.

"So... I suppose this some kind of vendetta you're satisfying?" Picard asked as they walked into a large meeting room. Jem'Hadar began moving out the tables and chairs. It was a large room, nearly twelve meters wide and ten meters long. A large viewscreen adorned the front and back walls. Wide double-doors were placed in the center of each of the side walls. 

"Vendetta?" Gelnon scoffed. "Far from. We mean to reclaim our hold on the Cardassians, which was part of our original plan. We also want our Founder back. Once we are well established here, we'll make our demands for her." Gelnon seemed quite pleased with himself. He motioned towards the floor. "If you would, Admiral, please sit down. I realize it's a bit undignified, but such are the times we live in."

Picard, along with the other prisoners, sat down at the beckoning of Gelnon with his Jem'Hadar warriors. "And what do you intend to do with the Starfleet vessel that will be returning within the hour?"

"I doubt they'll be returning, Admiral." Gelnon replied while tapping his fingers together. "You see, we were the ones who put the distress signal in the commander's comm badge. We have a little surprise waiting for them in the Orias system." He shrugged, his smile almost giddy, "Besides, even if some part of them is able to limp back here... that's why we have you."

Picard knew the mentality of Starfleet. He knew how paranoid they would be once they were faced with the knowledge of a Dominion presence back in the alpha quadrant. They wouldn't stand for it. Picard was going to have to continue his dialogue with Gelnon or with Tegril and encourage one of them get force the Dominion to leave. "I think you are overestimating our worth, Gelnon," he commented gravely.

"We'll see," Gelnon countered as he turned to leave. He stopped short of the door. "Besides, we'll have plenty of time to fortify our positions. I have yet to see a single Federation starship that can withstand the firepower from two Dominion battle cruisers." He continued for the door.

Now it was Jean Luc's turn to smile. "You're about to." 


	28. Chapter 28

The giant image of the Warlord came out of warp in a flash of white light on the edge of the Orias system. The front viewscreen was instantly filled with images of boulders of various sizes; some rotating, some moving slowly or quickly, some just remaining stationary. The majority of the system was destroyed, save the ice planet, the sun, and the molton planetoid that most closely orbited the sun.

Captain Bolerov was on the bridge now. Though his thoughts were still a bit disoriented, he did his best to hide the fact. The flashing red lights of the red alert continued blink. Beside him, Colonel Prichard continued observing everything that was happening. Lieutenant Commander T'Nia had also been brought to the bridge to assume her tactical position. "Commander Richards," Bolerov began authoritatively, "how far behind us is the Manta Ray?"

After a few button presses, Richards replied, "About eleven minutes, Captain."

Bolerov nodded. This was all too simliar, he thought. He felt nervous; cold. He grasped the arms of his seat tightly to avoid anyone seeing them shake. He wasn't about to lose another crew. "Can you see the Dominion ship?" Bolerov squinted to make out details on the viewscreen.

Richards shook his head. "No, Sir. There's too much interference from the asteroids. If they're still in there, we're going to have to go in after them."

A lump formed in Andrei's throat. "Helm, ahead one half impulse power."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Ensign Bristol replied. Moving the slider, he urged the ship straight ahead. Secretly, he was hoping for a fight. He had just started the Academy when the Dominion attacked. He was still in his dorm room when the Breen attacked San Francisco. It had been all over the news. By the time his floor was ready to transport to the attack site, it was all over.

The vessel closed in on the edge of the asteroid field. For a moment, Bolerov was back on the bridge of the Valiant, the image of the great battle of Cardassia before him. The image of the back of the USS Hood filled most of the right side of the screen. He shook his head violently to remove the image. "Mr. Richards, can you find them or not?" He asked angrilly.

He continued looking at his sensor readouts. "Nothing yet, Sir. We have to get further in."

"Captain," Bristol interrupted, "this area is getting a little cozy for a ship this size. Is there any way to help clear the path?"

Annoyed, Bolerov let out a sigh. "Mr. T'Nia, target anything that comes within a thousand kilometers and put a phaser into it." 

"Aye, Sir," she replied with a raised eyebrow. To her, it seemed like a reasonable request... certainly one that didn't deserve such a condescending response.

He turned back to the helmsman. "Will that help?" He asked sarcastically.

Sheepishly, Tyler replied, "Yes, Sir... thank you, Sir." He turned back around to his navigation console. The ship continued further in... red bursts of light firing from the red bands around the saucer section of the ship streaking towards anything nearby.

After three more minutes, Richards yelled, "I have a contact... bearing zero one nine mark zero two one!"

"What is it?" Bolerov yelled in reply.

"It's the Sting Ray, Sir!" He yelled back. "It just flew behind a large chunk of debris."

"Can you put it on screen?" Bolerov asked nervously. Part of him wanted to see what was ahead, part of him didn't.

"Aye, aye, Sir," Davies replied. With a few button presses, the image on the front viewscreen changed to center around a large chunk of rock. Upon closer observation, one could make out the remains of several tall buildings. Apparently, this was part of the upper crust of Orias III. As the crew focused in on the buildings, the gray image of the Sting Ray came up from the bottom of the asteroid. It flew up behind the rock, then came to a complete stop.

There was a collective sigh of relief from the crew, especially Colonel Prichard. "Lieutenant Bristol, set an intercept course and engage at best possible speed."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Tyler replied.

Bolerov continued barking orders. "Lieutenant Davies, can you make contact with the Sting Ray?"

She shook her head, having already tried for the past several minutes. "No, Sir. The jamming field is still up." For some reason, she just wasn't nervous about going into a battle situation. She could recall the very first engagement the Warlord was in. She had been so terrified that she had fallen to the floor, but was too frightened to even get up. Her friend, Tony, had helped give her the strength to go on, even after the power had gone out. Now, she knew... this vessel and its crew would keep her safe. "We'll keep everyone safe," she said to herself.

"Contact with the bandit!" Richards announced. "It's on the other side of that rock."

Everyone took a deep breath. 


	29. Chapter 29

Lieutenant Gannon skillfully guided his damaged Corvette around another asteroid. They had suffered another hit trying to escape an exploding asteroid shot by the Dominion cruiser. As a result, their shields had completely failed and the port warp nacell had been burned to a crisp. "Keep looking," he commanded the other two crewmen in the cockpit with him.

"This is hopeless," the communications specialist admitted.

Gannon didn't want to admit the accuracy of his crewman's statement. Something was horribly wrong about this whole thing. They had been playing cat-and-mouse for almost ten minutes. For a ship with the kind of firepower that battle cruiser was packing, that was nine and a half minutes too long. They should have been blown to pieces. "Hey, we're still alive, aren't we?" He offered.

"They're targeting the asteroid!" The tactical specialist yelled. It was a familiar announcement.

Gannon was already moving away from the asteroid as it blew, once again rocking the Corvette. Once more, the collision alarms sounded. Once more, the communications specialist turned them off. He slid behind yet another large chunk of planet. "This should give us some cover," he commented, letting out a deep breath. "Keep your eyes peeled, though."

The crewman to his left looked at him desperately. "Come on, Lieutenant. We can't keep this up forever. Our impulse engines only have so much fuel."

"I don't think we have to," Gannon countered. His mind was putting pieces together as he scratched his chin.

"Huh?"

"Put the pieces together, Corporal," with a burst of the maneuvering jets, he slid farther underneath the giant, slowly spinning rock. "That ship could have blown us away as soon as they saw us. They didn't." Using the maneuvering thrusters, he rotated the ship into a tight orbit around the rock.

The corporal behind him looked puzzled. "Then why didn't they?"

Lieutenant Gannon shook his head. "I'm thinking we're not the target. We're the bait." As the Sting Ray skirted around the rock, momentarily, they saw the back of the battle cruiser as it sailed silently over the top of the rock. "Whoa..." he remarked, drawing back on the thrusters. They had managed to get off one more round of pulse phasers, which was more of an annoyance than damage, before deciding to just duck and run... hoping someone would come to their rescue.

"Then, if we're just bait," the tactical corporal remarked sarcastically, "let's just fly out in front of them and test it. At least we'd get this over with."

"I had no idea you were such a defeatist," Gannon countered. "Actually, I had considered doing just that," he admitted, "but then I figured we'd better not press our luck in case the captain of that ship is only kind of an idiot." The tail of the battle cruiser gone from view, Gannon edged the ship over the apex of the rock. The view before him almost made him cry.

The communications specialist was the first to voice what they all saw. "It's the Warlord!" He screamed, pointing ahead.

"Thank god," Gannon breathed. "Can you hail them?"

The corporal shook his head. "We're still being jammed."

Gannon thought for several seconds as his ship slowly sailed around the rock again. "I'm gonna risk it," he concluded. Activating the upward thrusters, he pointed the ship to another, smaller rock. "I'm going to try to make for the Warlord and close the distance."

The tactical specialist began staring intently at his scanners. They were so close to being saved, he didn't want to get shot NOW. "Sir, it's coming up over the top. We'll be in their firing arc in just a few seconds."

"Gotcha." Not even taking his eyes off the front window, he slid the Sting Ray behind a smaller asteroid and braced for the inevitable warning that would follow. Before him, the image of the Warlord was growing rapidly as it closed the distance. "Are they locking on the asteroid?" Gannon asked. His hands were on the engine controls, ready to move out.

"No, Sir," came the surprised reply. "They're on an intercept course for the Warlord. They're moving off!" He was almost giddy.

Gannon let out a sigh of relief. After several moments watching the giant bat-shaped ship close on Warlord, he commented, "I thought they were smarter than that. Then again, I guess they don't know just how badly outmatched they are."

"Sir!" The tactical specialist yelled. "I've got a ship decloaking! She's about six thousand kilometers off the starboard bow. It's another battle cruiser!"

The three stared stunned, at the image of another giant gray bat wavering into their field of vision. 


	30. Chapter 30

"Well, that's a new trick," Kirk commented, staring at the image of a second Dominion warship shimmering into view. "What are your orders, Captain?" he asked simply.

The image of a Dominion battle cruiser streaked across the view screen as it savagely attacked an old-style Constellation class starship. The USS Hood immediately changed course to fall in behind the battle cruiser. "Mr. O'Neill," Bolerov started, "I believe we've found our first target. Keep in formation with the Hood." From the corner of the viewscreen, one could easily see phaser beams and a pair of red torpedoes launch from the underside of the Hood's saucer section. The ordinance impacted the shields of the cruiser, causing them to glow. "Mr. Iieria, you have your target. Fire when locked."

The Deltan female weapons officer complied. "Aye, Sir." The high-pitched chirp of the weapons console confirmed a target lock. Four long rays of red light followed by two red, glowing orbs impacted the top of the Dominion vessel in concert with a similar barrage from the USS Repulse, unseen through the viewscreen because it was on the opposite side of the Hood. 

As the Repulse's weapons struck the shields, an elated science officer exclaimed, "The cruiser's shields are failing!" The gray warship broke off its pursuit of the Constellation vessel.

"Excellent work!" Bolerov exclaimed.

"Sir?" Kirk questioned, genuinely concerned, "we haven't done anything yet."

"What?" Bolerov seemed dazed and bewildered... not sure which reality was true.

Commander Richards interrupted, "Sir, they're locking weapons on us."

"We should..." Bolerov started hesitantly.

"Sir," T'Nia began quickly, "the weapons are charged and locked. Shall I fire?"

"Where are we?" Bolerov began, his mind still clouded.

"They're firing!" Richards announced as a series of purple beams shot from the two battle cruisers and straight for what looked like the Warlord's viewscreen.

The klaxons of the Vigilant cried as if the ship itself was in pain. "Where did that come from?" Bolerov asked quickly.

"Another Dominion cruiser," Lieutenant Bosa replied. It's swinging around."

"Is the Hood still following the original battle cruiser?" the captain asked.

"Yes, Sir," O'Neill answered. "It's cripled, but still going evasive."

Bolerov nodded. They would need to get rid of this ship quickly in order for his teammates to defend them against the enemy getting behind them. "Keep firing on the Hood's target."

"Our shields are down to ninety one percent, Sir," T'Nia replied calmly.

"Captain!" Kirk exclaimed. "The Hood isn't here... it's just us. Do you want us to return fire? They're flanking us."

"No Hood?" He was looking straight into Stephen's eyes, but it was as if he didn't recognize him.

Another trio of large, purple beams streaked across the viewscreen and impacted the forward portion of the shields in an explosion of purple light.

"They've locked again... they're firing!" Lieutenant Kelly Bosa's voice was panicked. The bridge of the USS Vigilant rocked with the impact.

Bolerov did his best to remain calm. "Mr. Bosa, where is the attacking Dominion ship?"

"She's high on our six, Sir!" Bosa replied hurriedly.

"Shall I take evasive action?" Lieutenant Commander Aaron O'Neill asked from behind the navigation console.

Bolerov didn't even need time to consider the question. "No," he replied quickly. "Stay with the Hood. Lieutenant Iieria, return fire."

The Deltan tactical officer replied, "Yes, Sir."

"They're firing again!" Richards proclaimed. This was getting ridiculous. Someone had to do something. What was wrong with the captain?

"Captain," Kirk said, grabbing Bolerov on the shoulder. Captain Bolerov was standing, staring more into space than the viewscreen. Stephen spun the captain around and looked straight into his eyes. "Captain... come on... we need you HERE. We're being attacked. Give SOME kind of order!"

Colonel Prichard was about to take matters into his own hands.

"Our shields are down to seventy nine percent," T'Nia announced to anyone who was listening.

The front viewscreen had already begun to fade to white noise as the video relays became more and more damaged. Bolerov surveyed the damaged bridge. Two of his bridge officers were already dead. The entire room was bathed in an eerie red light, made even more morbid by patches of smoke and fire.

"We've lost main power!" Lieutenant Bosa yelled.

"My weapons console is dead," added Lieutenant Iieria calmly.

"Lieutenant Curran, alert the crew... all hands abandon ship."

"Abandon ship?" Kirk stared incredulously at his captain, who obviously wasn't in his right mind. His own mind wrestled with what to do. What he wanted to do seemed the right thing to do... but it was also potential mutiny. He continued shaking the captain, trying to bring him around. "Do you know what you're saying? Are you even here?"

"Who's Lieutenant Curran?" Davies asked. She stared frantically at the scene in front of her wondering if she should comply. 

Kirk took a hand off his captain to point to Lieutenant Davies. "Don't issue that order!" Desperately looking for direction, she nodded and sat back in her chair.

"They're firing again," Richards added, almost numb to the situation.

"Shields down to sixty-five percent," T'Nia added. She turned in her seat to look at her friend and superior officer with an intense gaze. Obviously, she expected him to do something.

"For god's sake, Commander," Colonel Prichard stood up, "if you don't do something about this, I will."

Lieutenant Curran turned back to her communications console. Yet another polaron beam impacted the defenseless ship. There was a terrifying explosion directly above them. Curran looked up helplessly as a large section of the ceiling support fell on her. Both she and her chair collapsed under the debris. Blood flowed freely from underneath the pile of metal and plastic. She was gone.

Bolerov's eyes widened as he looked at the communications console where Lieutenant Davies was seated. "Oh, no!" He cried, to the surprise of everyone on the bridge. He quickly wrested free from Stephen's one-handed grasp and ran for the console. Startled, Elaine fell backwards in her chair. Slamming his hand on the console, he screamed out, "All hands, abandon ship! All hands, abandon ship!" He turned around and made a surprising dash for the navigation console. "I'll fly her into the cruiser to buy you some time!" 


End file.
